Chapter Text
Narinder was looking away from his siblings, he could hear them crying. They weren’t screaming for their captors to stop anymore, they were too tired. He was too tired. There was nothing left.
They’d run for so long, and for what? His found family was now going to die for him. Because he was a cat, and they’d hidden him.
The cat barely had enough strength to stand. Something grabbed him by the scruff, blocking his airway for a moment and pulling old memories out of the distant past. For a brief second, he thought he could hear his mother, telling him he wasn’t supposed to bite anymore since he was a big kit now. Tears welled up in his eyes as the memory faded more quickly than it arrived, drowned out by the pain as his cheek slammed into a stone circle.
It looked like a ritual circle the bishops often used for their grandest miracles, though uncared for and unused, judging by the amount of dirt piled and moss growing. There were even a few small cracks he saw since his face had been personally introduced to the thing. He couldn’t see enough of the runes to know which Bishop ‘owned’ this circle, or what miracle it was meant to bring about. Shamura probably did, but they were behind him, and sobbing just as much as his other siblings. They wouldn’t be in the mood to talk about ancient ruins any time soon. Or ever again. There was no longer time.
A whispering sound through the woods. Trying his best to rise, Narinder only managed to fumble into a kneeling position as he saw pools of black form on the ground in front of him.
From them emerged familiar forms. The Bishops, all four of them. Of course he recognized them from tapestries, scriptures, and tomes. Never in his life had he seen one in person, most creatures of the Old Faith hadn’t. Let alone all four at once, the last time they were all gathered was supposedly a hundred years ago, at a great feast celebrating something important. Shamura would remember the details, and once again Narinder’s heart was saddened at the fact that he would never be able to ask them for clarification.
They were actually sheep, surprisingly enough. A race normally known for their gentleness and kindness. Many assigned these attributes to the Bishops even now. But Narinder knew better. They had ordered the slaughter of all the cats, after all. Apparently cats were evil just for existing, unlike the sacred sheep.
They were dressed in deep black robes with ornate red embroidery along the edges. Mystical, intricate symbols that, from a distance, merely looked like fancy patterns for the edging. Each of them had apparently ‘suffered for their flocks’ in a different manner, and to show this, they each sported bandages in a different place. Often Narinder suspected these injuries weren’t real, but symbolic in some way. Seeing them up close, he could see a black, tar-like substance seeping through the white bandages, and gaps in their bodies where flesh should have been that said bandages were covering. Real wounds, apparently. He didn’t know how to feel about that now that he knew. Perhaps there wasn’t a need to feel anything at all.
The Bishops began to speak. Funny, it was Lamia who spoke, she who represented no evil spoken. What was the point of her bleeding throat, if she could still speak? Though he couldn’t help but feel her voice did not come from her mouth, but above her somewhere. Her disciples claimed this was because her voice truly came from heaven, so she truly did speak no evil.
“This is the last one?” her voice rang over them all. It was strangely grating for a voice from heaven.
“Yes, my sister,” Foras spoke next, he who could see no evil. “There is no other cat anywhere on this earth, not in the Old Meadows or any other. I’m certain.”
The last? Narinder’s eyes widened, and he coughed faintly. For the first time in a while, he spoke. “You hear that?” his own voice surprised him with how weak it was, yet he continued. “You did good… I’m the last one. You… saved me… until the… end…”
Something smacked him in the head. He thought he was a goner, but someone was just punishing him for interrupting the Bishops.
“Just kill it, and let this be done,” Mammon, he who heard no evil, waved to the executioner, who moved forward.
“It’s all over, at last…” Lamia smiled.
Then with deep conviction, the voice of the oldest, wisest Bishop echoed through the trees. Narinder couldn’t help but feel her voice was the most godly sounding of them all. Maybe it was the way she wore her head wool like a cape past her shoulders. Maybe it was the decorations of beads through that head wool of dyed bone. Maybe it was the way she never seemed to be looking at anything, but beyond all.
The others just looked and sounded like giant sheep. But Alecto’s voice and bearing truly felt like something more. “She cannot return. Her chains remain. She is bound… bound forever.” Tears began to roll down her face, despite her eyes showing not the slightest hint of sadness.
Why did she cry? Narinder didn’t understand what she meant by ‘she is bound’ nor did it look or sound like Alecto was truly sad. Maybe they weren’t tears at all, a theory that made as much sense as anything else, as the tears were white and shining and they made a slight chiming sound when they hit the earth below. It changed the color of the grass and earth where they landed.
The executioner raised their ax. Narinder squeezed his eyes shut. He was scared. He tried so hard, but all that he was left in the end was his siblings. At least he wouldn’t have to watch them die, since he was going first. Sharp pangs in his heart as he realized one of them was going to be last… one of them was going to watch the bodies of all their siblings pile up, crying uselessly until the end. There was no one he would wish that fate on, yet his own family would suffer it. Suddenly he wished he had been killed last to spare his siblings something. They did so much for him. They gave up everything. Now they wouldn’t even have their lives.
He tried to think of something warm and happy as the ax finally came down.
~~~~~
Heket tried to shield Leshy’s eyes. But the sickening, meaty sound of the ax going through flesh to hit stone was far too loud. As she heard the ax grind against the stone, and watched her brother’s body slump over, blood pooling in the moss and dirt, Leshy gave off a heartbreaking wail. She held him as he cried… her tears would no longer come, her eyes were dry from crying in the hours before now.
She looked to her other siblings. Kallamar was pale, saying nothing, eyes glued to their lost sibling. Shamura’s many eyes were filled with tears as Leshy’s were. Heket wondered how there was any water left in them for crying. Maybe because she and Kallamar were more aquatic species and needed the water in greater amounts, but the two of them were just out of any tears to give.
Alecto suddenly leaned forward weeping. The tears had been surprising, but the blank face before had not been. But now Alecto’s face had changed and she was wailing her heart out, and for a moment, Heket felt Alecto’s heart match her own. But that feeling vanished quickly when Heket looked at her siblings. They were confused, weeping, broken, bleeding, in chains and rags. She looked at the Bishops. Towering over them all in wools and silks, radiating power. Lamia carefully placed a hand on Alecto’s shoulder to comfort her.
“So many sins upon us, and what have we received in turn?” Alecto didn’t appear to be speaking to anyone specific. “Throats cut, words lost, kits we prepared to burn. Do we prolong the end, refute it’s existence or bring it closer?”
“Alecto,” Lamia spoke firmly. “It’s over, she can’t come back, there are no cats.”
“Yes… yes,” Alecto answered. Heket and her siblings listened as the lingering power, or sadness, or whatever had been woven into Alecto’s words before disappeared. It was now replaced with a sort of mad delight. “Siblings, we have won. Ahahaha! She can’t get us, she can’t get us, she’s trapped. Chained for eternity! AHAHAHA!”
“We are done here,” Mammon motioned at his siblings, and without any further discussion, the four of them sank into the shadows of the forest. The weight that was in the air vanished with them. Heket and her siblings now found themselves staring at the executioner's ax, red with their brother’s blood. One of the other creatures, clad in black and red robes, pulled up Heket and began to drag her to the stone. Leshy fell out of her arms, was she really so weak she couldn’t even hold him?
She shuffled in the grip, but it did nothing. The robed creature laughed at her struggle, and allowed her to wiggle a little longer, just for their own amusement.
No one noticed the circle below Narinder start to hum with red energy between the mossy overgrown lines, or that the shackles and chains that bound him had turned red with rust, and withered away like dust instead of metal.
~~~~~
A warm bright place. Narinder opened his eyes. He felt the ax go through his neck. He felt his head fall from his body. Yet, now it felt like it had never detached, though his neck still stung. There was no way he should be able to open his eyes. But now he did, and he saw white. Pure, blinding white. He looked around.
A void, with no end in sight. Giant chains of silver stretched about like pillars as far as the eye could see. He couldn’t tell if the chains were sprouting from white clouds, or some mystical sea. He couldn’t tell if they were getting lost in the sky, or a cavern’s ceiling. There was a whispering sound that reminded him of a calm day at the beach.
The floor felt strange, though not unpleasant, which was surprising. It was like a mix of water and sand, two elements he normally hated. Sand was gritty, and made his skin itch, water would always get his skin frighteningly cold long before it dried. But this was not gritty, nor was it exactly wet. It also moved a bit like a current. The sensation felt like a light massage on his paw pads, it was pleasant and soothing.
Nothing but the giant chain pillars, and a giant figure some distance away. There were some black lines interrupting the white on the ground, they looked like important sigils of some kind. Narinder didn’t know their exact meaning, but understood it was a pathway. It led to the figure.
“Come closer. You may be dead, but I still have need of you,” a sweet, melodious voice. The figure, a giant sheep not unlike the Bishops, beckoned. Narinder obeyed. He felt strange, light and warm. The shackles seemed to dissolve into nothing. The hunger and thirst faded, strength slowly returned to his limbs as he walked closer. Even the gunk and dirt from days in the prison cell seemed to vanish, leaving his midnight fur silky and clean. He tilted his head, an unspoken question to the figure.
She was not unlike the Bishops in design, but in every other way, she was obviously superior. She appeared to be kneeling, yet her grandeur commanded all his attention. Alecto had seemed like a God, this being couldn’t be anything but a God.
Dressed in white silks, embroidered plainly with golden edges, solid color instead of the intricate symbols on the Bishops robes. Silver chains wrapped around her form, and shackles bit into her wrists and neck. It was unknown if the chains on her wrists would even hurt, as her hands were bare white bones. There was a crown upon her head, like the others, though this one had a red eye, and its pupil was slitted.
Five sickles hung in the air around the figure at equidistant points, right next to five large chain pillars that stretched into the ground right behind her. Two on the left, two on the right, all facing inwards. One in the middle hanging just above the figure's head, facing towards the ground, as though it would cut him in two.
A white veil covered her face, hiding the details from view, though Narinder thought he saw the shadows of three eyes beneath. The exact mood of her eyes couldn't be read, but he could tell her mouth was smiling.
He felt his ears get really warm. This whole place made him feel light and pleasant. It was safe, nice, and special. She was the ruler here, and She continued to speak. “My foolish siblings sought to keep you from me, little champion. Yet in death, they sent you straight to me.”
“Siblings? The four Bishops?” Narinder tilted his head the other way now.
“Indeed, I am the Fifth Bishop, I am the One Who Waits. My siblings reign over Chaos, Famine, Plague, and War, but I, I am the ruler of all things, I am Death itself. All things enter into my domain. All things shall be mine. I watch over all, and none can escape me, not even them,” she motioned for him to come a little closer. Narinder cautiously obeyed.
“So, I’m dead?”
“Yes.”
“This is the end?”
“No. The beginning,” she laughed. “Or perhaps not. For others, it would be the beginning. For you, merely, a continuation of the misery that is life. You walk on the precipice, the Gateway, to life and death, and you cannot pass further since, as I said, I still have need of you.”
“What need has a God of a mortal?” Naridner asked aloud a question he’d often thought these past few years.
“You are my champion,” she repeated. “You will kill my siblings.”
Silence, for a moment. Then Narinder began to laugh. “The Bishops?! You want a measly cat to kill Gods?! Sure, let me get out my sharp kitty claws, I’m sure I could cut into the hides of things made from the very immaterial power of Plague itself! I’ll breeze right into the breath of knives to have a meaningful conversation with the one who cannot hear! I’ll bite into Famine to do damage to the very idea of hunger itself, and Chaos surely won’t leave my organs in all manner of new places as I go forth to fight the one who makes the very world shift like waves of the sea!”
“How poetic,” she laughed. “You make the mistake of believing you will be a pure mortal again when you leave this place.”
Narinder wanted to shriek in anger. This was too much. His body felt a lot better, sure, but his mind was still reeling from everything that had happened in the past few minutes. He’d just died after all, hadn’t he? What on earth was this strange, secret fifth Bishop talking about? Had he just lost his mind in the prison cells? Was this truly the afterlife? Was listening to this sheep god even a good idea? There was a lot he wanted to ask, a lot he wanted to say, but there was too much he wanted to say all at once. Unable to choose what to say first, he stayed silent.
Behind the veil, he thought he saw the smile vanish, but it returned quite quickly. “There is much you need to understand. But start by knowing this, I can give you life again, at a price.”
“A price?” Narinder laughed again. “I have nothing to give you! I have no money, no home, no land, nothing! My entire species is gone! My… my…” he suddenly fell to his knees. “I’m… I’m the last cat. No, I’m dead, there are no cats. We’re gone. They’re all gone…”
“Nothing in my realm is truly lost. The cats are all here, they are all mine. Including you. My price is simple. You will spread my title and doctrine. You will be my vessel, my prophet to spread my word through the lands of the Old Meadows.”
“You… you want me to start my own cult?”
“You will start my cult.”
“Oh, good! Because that’ll go over well! Not like the Bishops put every heretic under the knife the moment they get the chance! It’s not like the villages throughout all the lands are slowly losing all other cults, oh no! Other cults are so welcome in the Lands of the Old Meadows! Hahaha!”
She lightly shook her head. “My siblings desire power over the weak. I already have power over all, you must simply… remind everyone what is already known. That my realm is inevitable. It is true that it will not be easy, but Death itself is your ally now, my champion. Death will mean nothing to you at all. Make mistakes, get hurt, be maimed and martyred. I will send you back no matter how many times, or in how many ways you fail. Your victory may be slow, but inevitable, as I am inevitable.”
“So I’m supposed to slowly chip away at the followers of the Old Faith with sharp sticks?” he sneered.
“I will give you life and power. It is far more than any mortal is meant to have. As I said, you must become my vessel and begin a cult in my name. Do this, and, well… you will have enough power to save those you left behind.”
An image in his mind. His siblings. “What?” his blood went cold.
The One Who Waits still smiled under the veil. “For this, I give you unending life. Do you accept?”
“Do I have a choice?” he shrieked. All the warmth of this place was gone now. He felt cold, frightened, and alone.
“Of course. You always have a choice,” She moved her hand, as if to pat him, but the chains held her back. Instead, Her hands returned to Her sides, and She said a little more quietly. “You have the freedom to make the choice… but you are not free from the consequences of your choice,” the image of his siblings appeared again. His blood again felt cold. “Will you take the sword in my name?”
“I… I accept!” What a lie She told. There was no choice. Not if he wanted to repay the kindness his siblings had shown.
He could feel her smile deepen. “Take this,” her arms splayed out. The chains clinked and became tight as she reached out and looked above. To Narinder’s surprise, the crown on her head floated up. Then down to him, landing softly on his head.
The effect was immediate. His mind began to race at speeds he never thought possible. Strength came to his muscles in degrees that should have shattered his own bones. He felt fire in his claws. Bright lights danced around him.
“Go forth and slay all heretics in my name, my champion,” her voice and laughter rang in his ears.
~~~~~
It looked like Heket was first to the chopping block. No reason, they just happened to grab her first, and so she would be the first to go. There was nothing any of them could do. Leshy tried to claw at the one that pulled her away, but he was merely laughed at, and kicked in the face.
Shamura watched, helplessly, as their only sister was dragged towards the ritual circle and their brother’s body. That’s when it happened.
The moss that had crowded over the symbols burned away. A bright red glow enveloped everything. Bones of past victims rattled around the edges, probably other cats that were beheaded and tossed aside over the years. They watched as the bones seemed to evaporate, and the blood of his brother floated into the air in dancing patterns around his corpse.
Everyone froze. Ritual circles normally glowed the same color as the crown worn by the Bishop it served. But no Bishop had a red crown. There was no ritual that Shamura could think of that this would apply to, the symbols were all ones of great power, that they were sure of. This thought was strengthened with trails of black ichor seeped from the edges of the circle. Ichor was a gift from the Bishops, their own blood, and it was said that only the greatest and mightiest of rituals required ichor.
Whatever this was, it was demanding threads of it from somewhere below the earth. Shamura’s heart raced. Once, as a proud disciple-in-training of Alecto, they would have been overjoyed to see this new ritual, using a color never seen before, doing something so powerful and wondrous. Now all they could think of was that this would be a great time to use the diversion to take their siblings and run away, but they were all too weak, they wouldn’t get far, if they got anywhere at all.
Their brother’s body jolted up, and the head floated upwards. Threads of ichor launched into the bare, dripping neck stump, winding back and forth between head and neck like living threads, pulling the head towards its rightful place. The red streams of light and blood brightened, and expanded like a blooming flower. The world rumbled, there was a great flash of light. In horror and awe, Shamura watched as their sibling’s eyes became aware once again, a third eye appeared in the shadows over their brother’s head, and Narinder coughed up some vile, rotting substance onto the center of the ritual circle.
The blood around him floated down like cloth. The blood had become cloth, a bright red cape wrapped around his frame. Their brother was now standing, breathing, and staring with increasing fury at his former captors.
His claws unsheathed, a hand outstretched. The third red eye above him suddenly floated downward, and wrapped around both of his hands. Now his hands were covered in red eyes and his claws looked more ferocious than any blade. He bared his teeth. “Let my sister go.”
At first there was silence. Then one of the more battle-hardened creatures tried to shoot an arrow at Narinder. Shamura’s heart went icy as they thought of watching their brother die a second time. But that didn’t happen.
Instead, faster than should be possible, Narinder smacked the arrow with a claw. Against all logic, this sent the arrow back towards the shooter with such force, a hole erupted in their chest. Another creature, enraged, charged at him with an ax. Narinder nimbly dodged, and his claws cut the arm off his foe in a swipe, and decapitated them with a second strike.
At once, the remaining captors charged. Narinder bared his teeth and reached out with his strange claws. Shamura was in awe. They knew their brother could fight, all their siblings could, none of them could have survived this long if they could not. But this was on another level, akin to one of the Bishop’s disciples blessed with power beyond mortal comprehension. He was fast enough to dodge arrows, strong enough to block strikes from creatures four times his size without any apparent struggle.
All any of them could do was watch. The creatures all fell to their brother, who mere moments ago was as starved, parched, and weak as any of them. More than them, and beaten besides. Bodies multiplied, until all who would hold their chains were gone, but they were in chains still. For a moment, anyway. With a swipe of his shadow-covered claws, the chains broke as if they had been mere paper, rather than the precious metal few knew how to find, make, or shape.
“Narinder… how?” Shamura gasped through his burning throat.<
“I’ll explain later, but first… I…” his face seemed to grow distant, as the red-eyed covering for his claws swirled up his arms to his head. The third eye Shamura had seen in the darkness belonged to a crown, not unlike those worn by the Bishops. Narinder looked upwards a bit, and his ears twitched, as though there was a sound he was catching. Shamura immediately tried to hear whatever it was that Narinder caught, but heard only silence. “Alright,” Narinder nodded. “I’m going to send you guys somewhere safe.”
He opened his arms, and suddenly red lights spiraled out beneath Leshy. The center was a shimmering expanse of stars, and they watched with horror as Leshy fell in.
“What?!” Heket screamed, but just as she did so, the portal opened up beneath her as well. Then Kallamar, who yelped in surprise. Finally, Shamura, though this one took a moment. Their brother was breathing heavily, he was clearly tired.
“How?” Shamura asked again, that’s all they could really get out of their mouth.
“You’ll see…” Narinder smiled the kind smile he normally only saved for his siblings, and Shamura felt their heart ease a little. This was still their brother. Even if they didn’t understand exactly what was going on, they could trust Narinder, and they would.
Shamura fell into the starry void. It was pleasantly cool, rather refreshing. Then there was a sweet expanse of warmth on their face, like the midday sun.
They realized it was the midday sun. It had been early evening when Narinder was sacrificed. Yet now the sun hung in the center of the sky, which made no sense, as it didn’t feel like any time had passed. Three of his siblings were drinking water and eating some berries in front of him, grateful for the reprieve. Standing in front of him was a very tired, battered Narinder and a fox he did not know, wrapped in a dark robe.
Smiling, Narinder hugged Shamura. Returning the hug, Shamura looked around. This place looked abandoned. It looked like none of the Meadows they knew, though there were piles of ruined stone and old carvings. Rotted wood piles that indicated buildings once stood here, long, long ago.
The only new thing was a cooking pit, where the rest of their siblings were sitting. Carefully Narinder led them to the others, and a bowl of berries. Shamura devoured it greedily. It was no cricket soup, but it was substantial. He coughed, and looked at the berries, and was surprised.
Waxberries. They weren’t all that common, and they needed to be boiled to remove the film around them before eating. What’s more, the small bushes only gave berries once, then never again. Just about any other berry would be a better food source. Looking around, he saw multiple wild bushes growing in the sunshine. A case of using what you had.
“This is Ala, he helped me find this place,” Narinder pointed to the fox. It was an elderly fellow, spots on his muzzle slightly gray. The tail that poked out of his robes looked like it had a crooked bite taken out of the end. The fox bowed to the four of them. Shamura bowed their head slightly in turn. Their siblings followed their example, as they often did.
“Four followers already,” the fox, Ala, said in a deep voice, surprisingly lively for his apparent age, and in spite of many missing teeth.
“Not followers, they’re my siblings.”
“Indeed,” Ala nodded. “Though I hope they become your followers, otherwise there isn’t much point to them here.”
“There is a point regardless. As I said, they are my siblings,” Narinder huffed in annoyance.
“Forgive me, Vessel of the Red Crown,” Ala smiled slightly. “Follower or not, there is much to be done, when they are well again. You cannot do this alone.”
“He won’t,” Shamura interrupted. Just having food in their stomach was already doing wonders. “We will help him with this. Though I would like to know what ‘this’ is.”
Sagely, Ala nodded. “Your brother has been chosen by the Red Crown, by the One Who Waits.”
“Wow, that clears everything up,” Heket mumbled sarcastically.
“I’ve never heard of a Red Crown,” Shamura stated.
“That is intentional,” Ala said. “Many hundreds of years ago, there was a Red Crown, a Fifth Bishop. Her name has been lost, as have many of her doctrines and principles, since the other four did their best to purge any and all knowledge of her existence. They feared her.”
“As they should,” Narinder smiled with a particularly wicked grin.
“I often read ancient manuscripts, both under Alecto and outside of her influence. I still saw nothing of a Fifth Bishop or a Red Crown.”
“Like I said, the original purge started hundreds of years ago. The Four Bishops were exceedingly thorough then. Little was written of her since, if at all. Tell me, what is the oldest manuscript you’ve held in your hands, young spider?”
Shamura thought for a moment. “I was once given the honor of holding a manuscript dated two hundred years ago. It was a monumental day.”
“Indeed… and not even close to the time frame that you would need to see anything of the missing Crown,” Ala smiled humorlessly. “I saw only scant records in my time as a Vessel, and what little I found was in three hundred year old manuscripts, which I read three hundred years ago. Likely even those records are now dust.”
“What?” Leshy blinked. He hadn’t really interacted with the world much, he’d just been shivering there a minute ago. Shamura wondered if there was something wrong, though Leshy seemed to be aware of his surroundings again. Kallamar was still shaking, and not really looking at anything though. They’d attributed that to hunger until now, but a rising concern told them something else was wrong.
They were distracted by the next sentence from Ala. “I’m well over three hundred years old. Despite no longer being a Vessel of the Red Crown, it has left its mark on me, Death is still my friend.”
“Okay you’re old,” Heket growled with her usual tactless candor, “but I think you can’t count, no one lives that long.”
“The Red Crown has great abilities, the God it represents more so,” Ala smiled. “You have seen its power firsthand, have you not? Your brother told me you witnessed his first resurrection… surely a marvelous sight to behold!”
“HE DIED!” Kallamar jumped up, screaming. Heket caught the bowl that he nearly threw off his lap, saving what little food there was inside. “Narinder… you… you died! It wasn’t a quick stab or an illness, or… or… anything you can come back from! YOUR HEAD WAS CUT. OFF!”
“Yeah, I felt it,” Narinder rubbed at his collar, and paused. “What? When did I get this?” he absentmindedly shuffled about his collar, the little golden bell at the center of it chiming.
“THAT IS NOT THE PRIORITY HERE!” Kallamar’s eyes were wild, and despite eating, he didn’t really look like he was feeling any better. He was still pale, and right now, he was about to foam at the mouth. “They’ll just find us and do it again! We ran for so long, and… and…” Kallamar fell to the ground in sobs. Shamura rushed to his side, rubbing his back.
“It’s going to be alright,” Shamura said, as calmly as they could, even though they still felt quite uncertain about the future themselves.
“I thought… we were… it was all…” Kallamar hiccuped between sobs.
“Indeed, all will be well now. Your brother can no longer die, see?” with that, and without any further warning, the fox clawed out Narinder’s throat.
He sank to the ground with a gurgle, his body suddenly disappearing into a mass of red and black light and liquid substance that seemed to flow to the earth itself. It was so fast, none of the siblings had time to react, or say anything. The world was frozen, for a second. Then they heard their brother’s voice shout over to them from far away. “What was that for!?”
“A demonstration,” Ala chuckled, staring at their brother, who had appeared at a large stone entryway. “As I said, you can no longer d-”
“I KNEW THAT ALREADY!” Narinder screamed, launching himself at Ala with an impossible speed. After seeing what Narinder did to the heretics, Shamura wouldn’t have been surprised if Narinder managed to rip Ala apart.
But the fox had some tricks of his own, disappearing into a shadow on the ground that sped off. He reappeared fully formed near the gateway they had seen Narinder reappear from. “I’ll leave you to it, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
“I’LL KILL YOU!” Narinder darted for Ala, spinning around so rapidly just watching made Shamura dizzy. However the fox only laughed, and sank into the ground in a red and black flow, not unlike what had happened to Narinder’s own body a few minutes prior.
Narinder growled menacingly at the circle, but then turned back to his siblings. “Are you guys okay?”
Shamura was… fine enough. Their heart was racing from watching their brother die twice in what felt like a span of minutes. Heket had her hands up like she was going to punch something to death with her webbed hands alone, Leshy had extended his fingers to give his claws the best access to the world at large, and Kallamar was starting to hyperventilate, or something.
“This isn’t… this…” whatever his thoughts on the matter, Kallamar couldn’t really seem to get them out. Shamura didn’t really blame him, the only reason they were able to keep any composure was because they were trying desperately to keep steady for the others.
“There’s a river not too far from here, I’ll get some water,” Narinder said. “Maybe that’d help. Keep an eye on him in the meantime,” he darted off before anyone could tell him otherwise.
~~~~~
She had a name, as well as many epithets, once. Long, long ago, before any creature in the Old Meadows could fathom, let alone remember.
Once, she had been Lilith, the Youngest, the Lamb, Death, or the End. Now, it was just the One Who Waits. As sensible as any title she ever held, perhaps the most suitable, since it was all she could, and would, do for some time.
Of course, she still looked after her domain. That was a given. Being a Crown Bearer came with rules. Her body no longer needed sleep, food or water, but it did need devotion. Despite her siblings best efforts, all creatures feared and knew Death. Even if her name and many epithets were forgotten or destroyed, they could not stop the ceaseless flow of fear, curiosity, and dread that trickled down to her domain from every single creature of every walk of life.
Her shins had been shattered, and her chains had forced her to kneel upon the broken bones. The pain was more than any mortal could comprehend. Alone the pain would’ve killed them long before they felt the full force of it. But a God had a higher means of understanding and will, and with that, came a greater capacity to feel and know. Yet the pain, despite its mortally unbearable strength, managed to fit into only a small corner in her mind.
Most of her mind was working on her tasks as Death. Each creature that expired, she felt it arrive, and welcomed it. Not every creature saw her, of course, but those who were more faithful did tend to get a glimpse of her form. Less of them these days, since her doctrine had been obscured. Regardless, her voice was always there for them, as well as a comforting feeling she was able to exude. Their souls would be read, and then the expired being would be assigned its rightful place in the afterlife, be it a Paradise, Purgatory, or Hell.
Sometimes her mind would separate a little further to create a new section of the domain. She could never visit, or see it, so the creation of it was all she had. She probably had made a great deal more than she needed out of sheer boredom alone.
She had been creating a new Purgatory when she felt something being sacrificed on her stone. Deeply amusing. Her siblings had thought that by cracking the surface of all her ritual stones, they had rendered them useless. They never saw holes already on the surface, never knew that, with resurrection being as complicated as it was, it required a ritual sphere instead of a circle.
Blood filled lines thinner than spider threads underground. The network she’d carefully made, filled. Her heart ached, remembering how she was going to show Alecto her proudest achievement. But the One Who Waits had been thrown to the depths of the Gateway, chained between life and death, never to move, before she ever had a chance to show her siblings the power she had obtained. Perhaps for the better. Obviously, they were already terrified of her before they knew she could do this, or she wouldn’t be here now.
Well, at least she had a new vessel to work with. A tom cat with fur darker than a moonless, starless night, yet it still shone with silky radiance in the light of the afterlife. Bright, blood-red eyes that were not typical of mammal-based kin. His eyes matched the crown, she couldn’t help but feel.
Weird that her siblings killed him over her ritual stone, they normally only did that for the basest and most troublesome of blasphemers. The creature here now was not that, she could feel his soul. A trapped, slightly violent, vicious thing, but not without reason. She read it quickly, and inwardly felt her heart sink and rise simultaneously.
Her heart sank as he was the last cat, according to its memories of her siblings. A shame, she liked cats. Not more or less than any other kin. But that mattered little. Cats weren’t the first kin to face extinction, and they wouldn’t be the last. New kin would emerge, as others disappeared, such was the constant flux of the living world.
However her heart rose as Alecto had prophesied a cat would free the One Who Waits. Since there were no other cats, that meant her time waiting was nearing the end.
Originally she’d tried many vessels, cats and other kin. None of them ever got far. She prepared to glorify herself for this creature. She knew she didn’t really look very godly, trapped in a kneeling position, half-dead, wrapped in chains and smelling of preservative herbs and rot. The other vessels needed a little time to see just how powerful she was. Their faith would bloom then, and their power would increase. But that took time.
At least that’s how it had always been. This cat was different, from the moment it saw her, she saw the faith begin to shine. A slightly different variety than what she was used to. Normally based in fear, this one had faith based in her pure godhood. A strange, and very different experience.
Few, if any, of her disciples had anything other than fear-based faith. Her siblings had laughed at her, pointed out their followers who, upon seeing their gods in the flesh, immediately believed in them with great conviction. Instant disciples, Mammon had called them, and the One Who Waits never had any.
This one would succeed where others had failed. Because she didn’t need to convince him of her power. He beheld her and knew.
Of course, he’d spent most of his life irreverent. He did not scrape and kneel to her. In fact, he spoke too harshly for a mortal. But he had just died, which was traumatic, and many creatures say things they don’t truly mean after such a harsh experience. She would not fault him for that.
An image of his siblings above sent directly to his mind caused him to stop his tirade. Not only did her new vessel believe in her from the start, he had a deep bond with these four. A lot of love, but also a deep sense of obligation. Four more or less instant followers. She did not know of their bond with him. She could not read a living soul from here. His love might be very one-sided, but the images of his life made her doubt that. They had protected him for so long he became the last cat, after all.
He was scared to accept this. Not because he doubted her, but he doubted himself. He doubted his sanity before he doubted her power. She had never seen something like this in a creature that just met her. Her heart felt warm for the first time in centuries, and a corner of her mind became entirely dedicated to her vessel.
Not that she hadn’t done that before. She normally designated a mindspace for her vessel. That way she could look in on them at any time, give advice, and equally important, look through the Crown’s eye at the world above. It was her only reprieve here. It had been a long time since the fox had failed so utterly she couldn’t with confidence let him continue to use the Crown. She was looking forward to seeing the outside world through a current lens, rather than through foggy, nearly colorless memories of the recently deceased.
She might’ve dedicated more space than she normally would, but not by much. Of course she would make more of her mindspace dedicated to the one meant to succeed. There was no reason to make it smaller. It’s not like it would get any bigger either, so it was important to set aside a little extra from the start. Well, she could expand the spaces if she wanted, but she wouldn’t need to do that.
He did agree to carry the burden. With a smile she gave him the Crown, and felt the Crown was pleased with this vessel’s mind, more than it had been with any other in the past. Oh indeed, this was the one! Her champion through and through.
Using her immense power, she sent him up through the ritual sphere. The blood had flowed to all the proper places, and the mighty presence of her siblings had gone. Time to see what her vessel was capable of with her own divine eye.