Heket - Blog Posts

I finally got Cult of the lamb and I actually did finish it.

I love the Bishops so much I love Shamura very much they are my favourite.

I have seen some draw Shamura with eyelashes and I love it so I wanted to do the same.

Poor shamura having to deal with

The bahonkers™️

we are putting the spider on estrogen

Trying more dynamic poses for once

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Inspired by Heket always being the farmer in my cult

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Reverting to my natural state of a lineless art style

Drew widgets for my phone

Nari (The Five Traitors)

So folk, it is time. It is time for the last of this Fic to be uploaded. The last chapter of The Five Traitors, It had been rather delightful writing this for all of us. I had much fun (: Anyhow, I don't wanna take too much of you folk's time...

Sooooooo ACTION!!!!!!

Cold…

So cold… was the land above the clouds that hid his temple.

Cold are the hands that grasp the railing overlooking the mighty revered mountain that cradled his young sanctuary. One that had much warmth and flame hidden from the mist ridden outside.

Cold is the heart that cared for his lot but also the lot that would take, take what was his and his by right.

His breath, blending with the cloud and the mist as he sighed and gazed with his three eyes that saw too much. Beyond the summit towards the skirts of the ancient earth and young woods laid an army, one with terrible purpose and blade that matched their tenacity.

An army with four mighty Gods leading their procession. At a crusade to pierce the clouds and bring with them what goes as comeuppance to their misbegotten ilk.

A sneer, from so deep it brings with it bile as bitter and black as the soot of their burning torches raised to the heavens. Their steps carry them higher and higher until they threaten to burn the very heavens above. One step after the first, one step closer to their upcoming sin.

The calming cold, taking his hand as an old friend would, something he lacked these days. Yet he felt his skin burn, a true oddity one as cold as the grave along his heart.

What gave him that searing scorch in that terrible moment was the irrefutable fact that this terrible army was going to make its way here. No matter what he hoped for. They will climb and climb till they bring with them something so natural to himself.

Death.

Eternal slumber, nature of life, passing of a moment between birth and the last breath taken. 

They will bring blade not to cut crop over their garden, but to cut his lot like weed grown on a hollow field. They will bring songs not to sing together, but to drown their voices with their own. They will bring fire, not to warm their hearth, but to set aflame the world they made for themselves. The world they built away from them.

He should move, they should prepare. He should go down there to fight against them. They should lay traps, they should bring the whole mountain atop the traitors with an avalanche. Crush each of them under the rubble like bugs, until there is nothing left but the passing memory of their terrible endeavor.

He could do it, he could unleash hellfire to melt this snow and the earth to the ore beneath then to ash then to the very cold winds that shall pester another mountain with its own tale of betrayal.

He should fight, he should scream, kick and tear at the very stone till they would have to drag him down with them. Back to earth, to their once warm home.

Perhaps his siblings would put on an act after they take his lot away to his realm. They might say they forgive him, as if he had sinned. Perhaps they would tell him he misunderstood them. They would tell him he was the one in the wrong, that he had to understand them. That their way was greater than his. That the death of his lot was just as they were.

They would take him back. March him back down, each agonizing step after another. Perhaps they would take his arms and armor, perhaps watch him night and day like an unruly beast, perhaps even tarnish his name for good measure. Yet they would accept him back to the fold, the rule would be unequal as ever, yet he would have a place at the table.

Table built on terrible sin and a leg inch shorter than the rest. Yet he would have them with him, his dearest siblings. He would yet again bear the burden of their companionship.

What cosmic catastrophe allowed this to occur? Sibling against one another. Claw against blade. Taking in another cold breath he accepted that sulking would do him no good, he needed not to be alone but to make amends.

To take action. To take charge of his procession. To take his lot and assure them of his presence. To tell them he is with them. To tell them he is of them as they are of him. Yet every time he gazed upon them he felt like a stranger. A stranger greater than he. One who could find a way off this hell not too unlike the one he preceded over. One who took action as opposed to one who merely waited.

Alas he was stuck, upon this balcony watching their doom approaching, each step like drums against the barren earth they left in their wake.

Why was he stuck? Why couldn’t he just… move? Just take a step, one after the other. Away from the railing. One step closer to their end. Just take a step…

He felt the cold marble leave his paw as he felt the wind wash from his face. He found himself in the darkness of his chamber. A paw closed the door behind him without looking, his digits still freezing.

There was no fire within his chamber nor in the whole temple. They had to stay in the dark and cold. Other than candlelight that only served to make them wish for more. It was a way to hide them away. Then again, what use was it? That army would find them eventually as they marched higher and higher. Yet he couldn’t take this one inkling of comfort from his lot, a possibility of survival was better than a promised destruction.

So their home stayed barren of warmth other than the hearts of his lot. His lot, the poor and the damned. Even in his chambers he could hear them. His ears picking the wails of children, their parents pleas to join the ranks of the defenders and the harsh orders spoken by his ‘soldiers’.

A scoff heard by no one came from him. What soldier? What warrior? He had neither. Just some old rams, ewes and random assortment of others with withered steel as arms and faith as shields. They were not the lot of his Eldest, damned be the old spider. 

They were to fall, They were to be slaughtered. Even if he unleashed everything he had they would each die on this mountain, this temple their tomb. 

He would shed a tear for each as they fell… again. He felt warm escaping his paw as the sizzling stone underneath told him he punctured skin. Retracting his nails back he didn’t bother to look down and check. With any luck he would not have to worry about it soon.

He should weep for them now really, what chance did his congregation have? 

None held chaos in their heart like his youngest’s lot. Where they would fight like beasts. Claw and teeth bared when the blade failed. No their hearts were pure, as still in life as in death soon coming closer and closer to them.

None were as fit as his sister’s lot. Where each boasted muscle and bone aplenty. Their armor is as heavy as their gut. No, his lot was lean. They took only what they could and should, left the rest for all. shared what they didn’t have.

None were as skilled with the blade as his first brother. The damnable coward he was, yet he held skill unmatched in blade which he shared with his lot. His lot were simple farmers for oblivion’s sake. None ever held a blade larger than a knife. Perhaps a scythe and non wielding them like he himself had, not to take life at least.

None were warriors like the old spider’s lot. Each of them is a veteran of a dozen conflicts, countless victories under their belt with a thirst for blood that wishes to spill the crimson liquid no matter the cost. His lot had never made another join his realm.

No, it was certain. His lot would give their last breath here. Even if he surrendered, they would all die. It was as certain as the coming of the drums from the bottom of the mountain.

Not all drums were from the bottom however, as there was one here coming from behind his door.

Door creaked, the tall wood moving slightly to let in a wolf most familiar ‘’So… You still won't fight huh?’’

Silence followed his emotionless voice, who carried with it an unease he couldn’t begin to describe.

He held no sneer as he spoke, just stillness ‘’A lamb was born an hour ago to a young couple. They won’t name her, no reason to bother they said.’’ With that he left, with the memory feeling like it was nothing but a dream.

He didn’t even bother with the door, which as annoying as it was still brought him a momentary sense of normalcy. Melvin, as little time as he had left on this earth would not change even in the end. It too was a certainty after all, as certain as the coming spring after this winter.

He held no contempt for him nor any of his followers. Each of them were perfect, and even if they were to die he would make sure of the fact they knew they were worth all of his suffering.

Now he had to make sure their newest member knew this too. It was like a blur, he left his chambers. All eyes following their lord, he didn’t shrink away from their gaze. They had to see him tall.

One after the other, his legs moved. Making his way towards the infirmary he saw a thousand stories unfold in front of him. There was a family of rats, their two youngest crying for their parents as the old she rat with a rust cowered axe assured them they will see each other again. Their hollow promise made him nauseous. She was no fool nor delusional, just a liar as it seemed.

The other corner held a fox, one of his clerics who spoke of divine retribution to their enemies and their assured victory in the upcoming battle against evil. A scoff threatened to escape him, the only assurance his wretches held was one of the end. That this war and battle when it was over carried with it a promised passage to the right side.

There was the odd gathering of a crow with a turtle and a snake. Each playing a game in spite of their incoming doom. Almost funny, alas also sad. He wondered what they had to bet with at this point? What did his lot even have? What did their God offer them in this moment other than suffering and eventual end of this short lives?

Each part of his temple held a different tale, each of them with their own heroes. Heroes that would fall, to be never spoken of again. Other than by him that is. Only when he would weep for them in remembrance. 

Finally after each agonizing step he had to endure in this torment, he saw it. Two sheep that cradled a cotton wrapped bundle of life. So small, so utterly small against his near titanic size that easily dwarfed them all who were mortal. They didn’t look upon him, yet they did not weep. They simply looked at their daughter, utterly enthralled by something so meek yet meant the whole world and then some. 

His voice was raw, grating against his own ears like rust being cleaned off a blade ‘’You should name her’’ A suggestion from a lord? When was it ever?

The two now looked at him, their child fussing over their lack of attention. It was the father ‘’my L-lord…’’ He looked away in shame ‘’Sh- she…’’ sigh ‘’she won’t need it sire’’ voice so broken.

His voice like steel ‘’You must name her’’ No mere suggestion after all.

This time the mother spoke, her voice like iron ‘’We shall my lord.’’ looking back at her young one now happier that she got the attention back ‘’We will.’’

Wool as bright and white as the clouds of the coming spring. She would have loved it. Alas the only brilliant white she shall see will be the mist of his realm. Oh what ill hath this soul committed fate? What could she have done here, to deserve life so terribly short and ended so soon?

Hearing all the commotion, Melvin made his way to him. Slightly better armed attendance not noticing his absence as they poured their heart into tactic. His eyes heavy with bags underneath to match. His muzzle parted slightly into what counts as a smile for him ‘’Thou art a cruel one Lord’’ 

He nodded ‘’Cruelest of them all’’

***

Drums

Drums! Bang Bang Bang, Step Step Step

March

March

March

There were no archers to rain arrows as they marched. There was no gate to stop them. They entered as if they were invited guests. 

Their armored sabatons clanking against the stone, mud dirtying the clean marble. Ash blacking the tapestry. Their shouts drowning out the prayer spoken by the ‘guilty’ like whisper.

They were led by the four, one leaving leaves in his wake. His steps without rhythm, he looked conflicted. happy or sad, one couldn’t tell. The other one was skittish, he looked all around, his steps careful. Yet he seemed as ashamed as they were scared. There was one with anger boiling forth, her axe fitting nicely in their grasp. Yet her hands shook ever so slightly. Then there was the spider. They were but stone, or alas the executioner's blade hanging above. So still yet with a terrible promise of action.

Each army bore the symbols of their Lord and the flag of the Old Faith, bound together cloth stronger than any chain. Each still in the stale air of the temple, yet they stayed as a symbol that tied them for better or worse. They bore armor and weapons, steel glistening with the light of the candles all around them. Some looked happy to be there, their smiles like that of monsters. Some looked impassive, like they had been disappointed by the lack of battle. Then there was the rare look of shame, ones with saddened familiar eyes.

They stood in front of him. A unified front of four armies against his rabble of peasants and wretches he would die for. They stood behind him, as if he could protect them. Each grasping their blade or tool as their lives depended on it. Their prayers and whines bleed together into a quiet cacophony. He felt them, each of their eyes. Pleading, begging… They needed him.

It was their eldest ‘’Narinder, it has been awhile has it not?’’ their mandibles clicking with each careful word.

His eyes never left them even as his heart felt like a storm in his chest. He had so much to say, to curse. Yet that could wait. In all of this nightmare there was one thing he had to know before he would die in the name of his people. ‘’Answer me, oh eldest. One that saw the world before me and cleansed so many. Why seek the end of my lot, sibling?’’ There, the burning question.

Their sigh, like a whisper ‘’I seeketh no harm Narinder, only to contain and protect thee even from thee.’’

Hollow words, spoken too often with no love to back them. A charade that neither believed he thought. 

A step forward ‘’Now Narinder, I urge you to-’’

‘’I trusted you’’ His eyes stung almost as he spoke, yet steel behind his conviction forced him to continue ‘’I believed those words once before your atrocity.’’ His heart ablaze ‘’No more’’

There was silence now, not even the prayers of the pitiful behind him. 

She spoke, after being content to wait for so long ‘’What are you talking about? What atrocity?’’ Looking at their eldest ‘’What is he talking about Shamura?’’

The soothing voice of the spider was quick ‘’It is nothing you should concern yourself with-’’

There were many things that made him mad at that very moment. Things as meaningless as the fact that the army his siblings brought was actively soiling the home of his lot with earth and soot. To more significant things like the smell of fear that wafted through the air behind him and the fact that he could not ease the dread of his people.

Alas though, he didn’t feel mad at that particular moment. No. He was mad when he left the grounds of the old faith. He was mad when he heard of the preparations for extermination. He was mad when his envoys turned up at his realm. He was mad when he couldn’t find it himself to fight his siblings before they came here, to slaughter each for daring to raise armies against him. 

Now

He was enraged

‘’YOU DIDN’T TELL THEM?!’’ His grip tightened on his scythe as the words spilled forth. He felt his once cold hands flare with otherworldly smoke as he felt the call of bloodshed from deep within. Only the words that came from the youngest stopped him from trying to fit the spider’s skull on a pike.

His curious voice felt like soothing water against burn ‘’What didn’t they tell us?’’ Oh my sweet summer child brother, sinless you were weren't you? 

First brother’s voice got drowned out, alas he yet heard him ‘’Can we calm down… p-please?’’ He spoke, quiet yet daring to raise his voice for once.

Tired voice of their elder ‘’It was not something any of you had to learn about’’ clicking of mandibles ‘’There is reason for my decision not to reveal-’’

His voice cut against the eldest, voice like thunder ‘’It has been two years, seven months and twenty one days since our eldest massacred my lot on the grounds of treason’’ The feeling of catharsis melded with absolute anguish and yet he spoke. His eyes blurring as he forced the memories forward ‘’Two hundred and thirteen followers of the Old faith, their names etched into the stone of this very temple. Each more faithful than the one prior was slaughtered. Men, women, children and elderly alike. I saw each of them pass into my realm as I could only watch.’’ And here it was, words escaping him like a damn being burst.

The outrage was instant. First was Heket ‘’What?! WHAT?!’’ Her battle axe swayed slightly as he looked between them. Followed by Kallamar ‘’I… why!?’’ He chose to look at the ground instead. The last was the youngest, with a voice barely a whisper ‘’E-everyone? Even t-the children?’’ As their lords spoke in disbelief, from each of the armies came shouting, talking and mostly outrage. Only the spider’s army was quiet, they instead wore faces of shame or simply chose to watch the stone below them. 

Amidst the cacophony of noise that now permeated his temple there was only one who seemed like they had any kind of control. Not him obviously, he was still thinking of how to mount the spider’s head on a pike without breaking the skull. Also not Heket, who seemed like she had similar ideas. Which as much as it was a comfort was also rude, as he should hold the privilege instead.

No, it was yet their eldest who had at least an inkling of calm ‘’It was a necessary-’’ 

Before he could adjust the spider’s leg to head ratio, a scream of indigence came from their loudest sibling ‘’HOW!?’’ Her voice shook the foundation of the temple. They took a step away from the spider, to him ‘’How can it be necessary? A whole loyal cult being slaughtered cannot be justified!’’ The ever just, his Froglet seemed like she was more hesitant on their slaughter than he might have assumed. As she made her way closer to him, standing to his side. Her army became a palisade between the remaining army and his own lot.

Oh cruel fate, Thank thee for making him find her in that pond. To make him slaughter that eejit god that dared to raise a blade against one so young as she was.

Still the ever calm ‘’You do not understand Heket, it was not a choice I made lightly.’’

Grounding out the words ‘’You didn’t look much conflicted when you tried to usher me out of my own lot elder. Before I felt each one’s heart stop’’

Running a claw down their face ‘’I didn’t seek you seeing them, alas if you had listened-’’

Kallamar, almost like coming out of a stupor ‘’How could you, just… why?’’ He stepped away from their sibling, in fear or disgust he could not tell. He didn’t move towards him but it was yet comforting nonetheless to see the army of the spider lessen.

They lightly reached out a claw to him ‘’Kallamar, I assure you I had my reasons.’’ Their hand retracted when they realized their brother would not come closer to them ‘’Do you simply think I would order. No. Partake in such a thing myself if I had no reason?’’ A type of plea entered their voice ‘’Brother prithee, be reasonable’’

For a moment he almost seemed like his first brother might have been swayed back, herded not unlike sheep. Alas his Kallamari proved that he was not an invertebrate after all as he backed away from them fully. Standing slightly away from both of the sides. His troops followed his direction as they chose to stand with their lord, watching to see how things would play out.

Oh fate, had thee deceived me? Were you not so cruel?

Their youngest was truly a creature of brevity ‘’You monster’’ two words, and it was worth more than a thousand.

Then as if a bomb had gone off ‘’I HAD TO!’’ Spider’s calm broke in an instant ‘’None of you have a clue what would have happened if I chose to ignore the truth!’’

Truth? What nonsense was the mad butcher speaking about? Has their eldest finally lost it? The thought was sobering as well as maddening, a rush of empathy shook the rage within his very core. Yet it was but a breeze against the inferno within. Even if he had gone mad without his knowledge it would not save the spider if he got his hands on them.

Alas his brother was quick ‘’What truth? Talk to us.’’ He sounded like he was at the edge of tears ‘’Please Shamura, just make it make sense’’ His words tore at the strings of his heart, his Little leaf’s plight was of his own in that moment. Yet, he doubted their eldest could make sense of this madness. It was all but futile to look for sense where none was to be found.

With a sigh that spoke of one too many nights spent wake ‘’We die in the end.’’

Silence stretched for what felt like hours as all waited, the finality in their voice alone was enough to take his mind out of rage. 

They recounted a tale then, one they seem like they too were lost in ‘’We die at the end of this story. It begins with separation, one leaves the flock of five. I know not why, mayhap he grew in pride till it took away all his bonds, spurred by the jubilation of his lot which swelled in size their hearts full of faith.’’ Their eyes met, six against three ‘’Flock weakens and yet his lot strengthens. For a time, it stillness takes hold. However time rarely stays the same, I know not what sparked conflict and yet they descend to war and battle, bloodshed a plenty.’’

A rueful look overtakes ‘’then I saw Ichor fall free to paint marble black. It was dark, so dark it shamed the very night itself. I saw a battle of four against one, he was so strong it took everything and then some to bring him down. I felt agony unlike anything I had ever felt. I saw then white cloth draped over us all, as if we had died and wrapped in funeral cloth before our hearts truly stopped. Oh my dearest brother, the rage I saw, it was overwhelming. I promise you, if I had not had my wits. You would not have seen tomorrow.’’

A look of rage passed their eldest, one which somehow mirrored his own. Alas, his came from action, theirs came from story and devilish omen. What madness did this maniac speak of? What kind of a hellish vision did they delude themselves into believing was a portent? Cautiously still trying to swallow his rage ‘‘What happens next?’’

Their eyes met again, with a mirthless chuckle ‘’Must thee ask more? Do thou wisheth the curse of far sight? Fine then. We slaughtered the Sheep, the rams, the ewes and the lamb’’ A cry resonated from the crowd behind him, one of outrage and fear ‘’I saw all our hands red. I saw Heket devouring each of flesh, I saw Leshy play with the bones, I saw Kallamar crush their horns into powder. Yet nothing was worse than when I saw myself. Speaking with valor as we struck the last one down. I felt pride in such terrible work.’’

His gaze fell to the stone below ‘’But yet, it was not the end. I saw the one who died just a moment yore comeback, to ironically defy death. Her neck still bloodied, she had the eyes of one who saw too much and lost too many. Above her head I saw  the crown that would end us all. A mere mortal ewe with the power of Gods given to them by no doubt our maddened brother Narinder, now the one who waits.’’

Steel returned to their eyes as they took in a predatory glint ‘’I could not, would not allow that to happen. I had to take your lot away, I made it fast, I did it clean, I did not enjoy it Nari I promise you upon my birth star. I did it to protect you from what you would have become.’’ Their voice, one of madness in the end.

Pity ‘’Ye old fool, had thee lost thine wits as well as heart, oh cruel tyrant?’’

The spider looked like they were struck, Their heart sliced. Yet he didn’t doubt what happened next hurt them more.

‘’I have no Elder’’ Their youngest spoke with a heart heavy with sorrow, and the temple was quiet.

Spider’s claw clenched as their hand oozed ichor. Their eyes closed in contemplation.

He knew the spider the longest. He was there first after all. He knew how they were when they were mad, as rare as that has been. Their elders, as brash as they were, would never lose control. It was a simple fact to him almost, and it made sense really. If one was to lead an army and call themselves the God of war they had to find the balance between the push and pull, madness and sense.

Yet, as he had once thought their eldest would never harm him. He was yet again proven wrong as he saw a glint he had only seen when they had fought against the enemy.

Their voice colder than the winds outside ‘’Hear I traitors all, I will save you from yourselves even if it will have to hurt’’

There were many things he knew were unquestionable. Like the day would rise tomorrow, there would always be autumn after summer and the fact that their eldest was strong as they were deadly.

He was yet to be proven wrong on this and doubted he would ever be proven otherwise.

Their scream like the howling of the storm as they rise to their full height with their armored Talons stretched to their fullest. There were many reasons why he couldn’t help his lot back then. One was that he didn’t know what was happening. Another was that he thought their eldest could not ill against him, that there was always wisdom to their action. Then there was something he couldn’t admit to him at that time but now could.

He was afraid of them.

And he was right to be afraid of them.

They towered over the four as they rose on their back legs to swipe with their left, almost catching their youngest in his antler. Yet he had a lifetime sparring with the mad spider, he knew they favored a grand and swift opening. His scythe lighting as he hooked his brother back towards him.

Yet the spider was not done, they were persistent as they were tenacious. Their right connected with his arm as they were both sent sprawling against the marble below. He could have twisted before fall, he was a cat for oblivion sake and yet it would expose his brother for what came next.

Jumping high with their hydraulic powered legs, their sibling will skewer him. Yet he would give a chance to his little leaf at survival as it would only penetrate him from this distance. 

Yet his bones remained unbroken. His ribs were spared by his Froglet who had swatted away the spider before they could spear him through with their axe. He saw her hands shake as she took labored breaths. Such a hit had to have taken its toll on her, the Spider Lord was no easy target to deflect and yet she succeeded… for now.

Spider Lord rose, their eyes focused on each of them. They never shifted, their expression neutral as their voice ‘’Love needs sacrifice my dearest siblings, it needs action to be preserved and persevered’’

He could retort those words with memories shared with them alas at that moment he was more in favor of a more direct way of argument. One that included his scythe. 

His brother untangled himself quickly before shakily standing slightly behind him, he had no experience fighting another God. Not one this strong.

But he did. Taking the left side next to his sibling he nodded to her, which was answered in kind. They hunted before, this would not be any different… Just much harder.

Spider Lord jumped to the left. Yet again choosing the opening themselves, they went in for a swipe which was blocked, but before he could be slashed by the expertly timed right talon his sister went in for an overhead chop which although missed has forced the spider to jump back.

Their many legged body was fast, yet their size was immense as each leg falling to the marble cracked the stone below into dust. Circling around them, looking for an opening they spoke ‘’Sometimes the eldest must make decisions they do not like, that they abhor. Alas they know their duty to their family needs them to be strong’’

Him and his sister were silent, you didn’t speak while fighting. Unless you were holding advantage that is. Yet their brother never had to learn this ‘’We are no family! Family do-’’ he was punished for his ignorance with a pruning against his chin, broken branches and leaves falling to stone like in autumn.

Yet he learned fast also, or perhaps he was planning this to begin with. One couldn’t tell with the Lord of Chaos. His battle hammer struck the Spider Lord on their shoulder, their armored and ready shoulder took the glancing blow like shore stone takes the breeze in the morning.

They jumped again, before he could make sure their youngest hadn’t been hurt they spoke out, their voice devoid of emotion ‘’I chose to spare you all of detail because I knew none of you had what it takes to make a stand against oblivion when the price was your own morals’’

The words of the spider were grating against his psyche. He wondered if he could make such a decision like the spider. It almost made sense in a twisted way, make the sacrifice and save the many. Other than the fact that he would be sacrificing someone else and the sacrifice was based on delusion rather than concrete fact or inevitably. Yet, the visions of their eldest were rarely false.

Why was he thinking of this? Of course those visions were false, he would never hurt his siblings… Other than their eldest now. But what if… his siblings stood with the spider now? would he welcome them to his realm?

Another rule of engagement thought by the Spider, never think when you should be acting. His thoughts blinded him to the reality staring at him from above as their sibling had climbed to the ceiling and was now dropping on them with each of their sharpened legs ready to trim his arms off.

He was not fast, not faster than gravity at least. He could maybe roll, but that would just get his legs sliced open and leave his beloved siblings open for attack. Well, at least he wasn’t mad at them anymore and perhaps Spider might be willing to talk once he was gone, maybe he didn’t need to meet his siblings in his realm.

Yet his story didn’t end, a blinding light stopped the spider and actually threw them away. Before he could think too much on it he saw Kallamar’s outstretched arm and a bandolier full of grenades minus one. 

If they survived this, he would find the mortal who brought that baseball game to their lands and thank them personally for getting their brother interested because there was no other way that grenade could connect with their Spider that well any other way.

A frustrated sigh escaped the spider as they effortlessly rose back ‘’Do you know what you fight for? The atrocity that will follow this? One cannot change destiny, even if this ends the simple fact is that it will happen eventually. You can change ‘when will it happen’ but never ‘will it happen’. Our brother will betray you, betray me, betray us and we will all suffer for it.’’

You never talked in battle unless you held the advantage, and even with four against one, it was clear who got to talk. Yet he was a bad student, the spider could attest to that ‘’You are right’’ His voice surprised even him with its firmness.

His siblings for a moment looked at him with scrutiny, judgment passing their eyes. As for The spider lord, he seemed somewhere between sorrow and vindication. ‘’I rarely saw you wrong in vision before Shamura’’ This was fact ‘’Your vision may as well come true one day, one day perhaps I will grow angry with all of you. Perhaps I truly will grow so prideful I will betray all of you.’’ It was hard to admit to all of this, the words feeling like ash in his tongue ‘’One day perhaps I will seek the end’’

He could not see what was to be like his elder. However he knew the whims of Gods and how they changed, nothing was immortal and nor were they. What they stood for; War, Famine, Plague, Chaos and Death were eternal, but them? Not so much. No one ruled forever and one day no matter whether it be through horrid betrayal or otherwise, would see the end of their rule.

‘’Yet, you are also wrong. You may not be able to change the course of the river, yet even a fish can make a ripple in the flow of fate.’’ He had seen it time and time again, their visions were often true and yet they had flaws, things that didn’t match and things that only came to be due to happenstance rather than action ‘’I don’t know what awaits us all in the end of our story, however I know all stories have an end and I know I would much rather face it together with all of you rather than just tear at each other like beasts due to paranoia. Thinking we are powerless to change destiny when together we might have a chance or at least might stand together as a family instated of culling each other to delay the what you think is inevitable'’

He knew all eyes were on him, some in scrutiny and some in anger. He knew what he said was hard to accept, and yet he knew the nature of this world and its whims just as well as his eldest sibling.

His voice was not devoid of anger and yet it still carried with it a gentleness he thought was lost ‘’Please Shamura… I know you wanted to help us.’’ He had to force the next words out of his mouth, the admittance feeling like poison in his tongue ‘’Wanted to help me. Even if you ended up hurting the ones I loved.’’

They yet held an unconvinced stare, so he pulled on a memory he knew they would remember ‘’wasn’t it you that told me we had to fight until the bitter bitter end once where I had lost hope?’’ He took a tentative step towards the them, his arms open yet with scythe on his side ‘’I remember my sibling being there to tell me we would face it together, not alone when it was just the two of us against the heathens and their foul God’’

A chuckle, one of mirth ‘’My little naive Nari, my little hopeful Lord. Trying to face fate with dignity.’’ a small Smile ‘’I never understood how you could be so hopeful? You were so young back then and so was I. Barely shorter than Leshy now, I remember your tears flowing freely’’ Now looking at him with those honest eyes of theirs ‘’I don’t want to fight my little Nari, I never wanted to hurt my little Nari and yet… I cannot accept a future so dark so soon.’’ They closed their eyes ‘’I promise, I will return us all back to the way it used to be, one way or the other’’ When they opened their eyes there was a slight glint to them, one of determination ‘’How about thee siblings? Will I have to take you all down before I can fix this?’’

First was the youngest ‘’No, we stand together as a family. I am not just letting some stupid fate or prophecy dictate our lives. I am the God of Chaos, I refuse this order. We will find our own way’’ His voice carrying resolve heavier than his war hammer.

Second was their sister ‘’Likewise. Hear me you dogged spider, I was very tired trying to find a reason to hate the one who rejected me away from his realm when I was a tadpole. Kudos for trying though, you almost made me into an oathbreaker.’’ her hands were still now, her axe ready.

Last was Kallamar ‘’I am sick of being afraid, I am sick of the paranoia and I am sick of fearing my own brother before he even did anything wrong. I want to live, not hide away. Not from him or our future.’’ He was brave with those words, with conviction he raised his short saber.

A rueful smile ‘’I see’’ That's when Oblivion’s gates were opened fully.

Shamura showed all of them that they weren’t a God of war for nothing.

They jumped but this time the grenade of Kallamar didn’t intercept them in time, they landed in the middle of their now broken formation. They all dispersed to each side trying to avoid the attack with varying success. From each side War God was surrounded, yet it was the four of them who felt like they were surrounded by fear. 

They went for Leshy first. They were fast and this time he wasn’t there to take him out of the harm’s way. War God simply yanked the branches on his head before he could understand what happened. Marble was showered with both crimson and green, the very sight stinging his eyes. Before the War God could further harm their youngest Heket answered them with a vertical slash that actually managed to draw the deep crimson out of the spider. A real damage for the first time since the start of the battle.

Yet their short victory was bashed against the pillars alongside of Heket who didn’t see the spider jump and before kicking her with the might of all of their legs at once. The air escaped her lungs as she met the hard stone that crumbled with a part of the ceiling falling on them fast. He tried to scream to warn her, yet his throat felt like it was slashed. He knew there was no way she could get away in time.

Yet she had no need as it was Kallamar who alongside throwing a grenade at the falling debris stabbed at the leg of the War God, who still hadn’t stabilized after their attack. He tried to push in the advantage by using his scepter to bash at their legs but hadn’t realized the stinger which now pierced them in the shoulder. Their scream reverberated against the halls of his temple before they reached his ear. The echoes adding to the horror and dread.

He jumped, his legs carrying right behind them. With all the might he could summon to his side he swung the blunt side of the scythe to War God’s head. The War God saw the attack a mile away and dogged under the weapon before rising once again. His attack had failed… or so they thought before he yanked the War God Towards him with the inner side of the scythe. With his left hand, he uppercutted the spider, his slightly bony fist connecting with their jaw. Throwing them into the air slightly before their youngest swatted them at the head with a perfect serve that saw them tumbling away from them some distance.

They were barely hanging on, each of them holding each other as well as hanging onto each other as they once again took their battle stance. The spider got up, they were wounded and yet they were better off than each of them. Their carapace holding them together as they laughed. Their laughter both terrible and broken. 

There was madness in their voice as the words spilled forward ‘’YOU CANNOT CHANGE FATE!’’ wildly motioning around them, all denizens of the temple looking at the mighty with fear ‘’You cannot change what is going to happen no matter how much you stand together, I will have to watch all of you die! I will have to fight you again! I will have to accept oblivion, the end!’’ Their claws wide open, ready to strike once again as if they were not hurt at all.

Then he did the stupidest thing he could manage to do at that moment. Something so bereft of sense he would beat himself to Oblivion and back for just thinking about it any other time. 

He dropped his scythe.

The great weapon crashing against the ground. Turning the stone into dust before the echoes even reached his own ears.

Then he did something even stupider. He walked towards his eldest and he simply embraced them. Their talons sinking into his stomach, each of their fingers digging deeper than the other. As they continued to push their hands further into his organs, so did he embrace them harder…

Agony, pure agony beyond anything he felt before. Not even when Shamura had to save him from the heathen God who had stabbed into his lung had he felt pain so pure. It threatened to take away all he knew and each second their hands gripped harder he felt another bout of fresh air of oblivion. Yet he held on.

Until he felt the scalding wetness of the tears now falling against his back. It took him a moment to push away the pain before he could speak ‘’Sha Sha, you know time changes and so do we’’ His voice but a whisper ‘’I know the end hurts, I am its lord you know. Yet, I will cherish all the time I had with you and our family, good and bad until our rule ends. I will accept the end of this story alongside of you.’’

He felt the talons loosen, before feeling their arms wrap around him. Their voice like glass, so fragile ‘’Oh Nari, I hurt all of you so so much.’’ a sob and a whimper ‘’You won’t forgive me for I have sinned will thee?’’ their eyes wet, salted with desperation.

He pulled back slightly, letting them go slightly. Looking into their eyes with a smile ‘’Nay, I will forgive thee for I love thee, with sin or not’’ It would perhaps take time, yet he knew he could do it eventually. He only had one elder sibling and one family after all.

Their embrace was joined by Leshy, he wordlessly hugged them both. He was silent, yet his tears spoke for him.

Then came Kallamar, his long tentacles wrapping around the three easily ‘’I am still afraid of the future, but now I guess at least we will see what happens together s-so I guess it is better’’ He gave them a smile, their teeth glistening kindly.

Their sister grumbled as she lowered herself enough to give them all a hug  ‘’I am angry, I am going to continue to be angry. Mostly because you didn’t talk to us and decided to act on your own’’ A softness entered their voice ‘’But I will probably forgive you at some point.’’

They stayed like that for a long time, none willing to let go even as they bled. From the corner of his eye he could see their people now all looking at them with admiration, their faith seemingly restored. Some wept, some smiled and laughed. Some hugged, their weapons cast away, each sect now embracing each other as fellow brethren of the faith. Each holding their loved ones and siblings close. The past strife was forgotten in that moment. It would yet take a while before all grievances were washed away and yet, in his now warm heart he knew it would come to be eventually. As they too hoped for a better future, ready to take the first step together as family he knew they had a chance.

Shasha

Sooooo fourth in the saga. Where we get to see the big spider in the spotlight for the first time since the series start. I am so proud of the old Spider with reallly sharp claws who finally gets to gets to have the stage.

As you might have guessed this chapter is about Shamura and how they went about the ‘joining the traitor’ business.

As usual the link to AO3 is down below if you all wish to read it there. (:

Seen Things that are yet to happen.

Precognition, a window to the future, a look to the will be.

A gift one may call it just as they had done it before now. Long before the accursed day they had peered to a future they wish they had not.

They wanted to call it a curse after seeing the horrors that awaited them. A curse that showed them what would be without a shadow of a doubt.

But yet they couldn’t call it a curse even if they wanted to, for they did not make that future take place but have instead just peered into the ugly truth of what awaited them. So they called it a call for action instead, a call that would not go unanswered.

But yet still, even with the truth of their ability and their need to take action. A part of them still yearned for what their siblings had, the sweet ignorance. But as always even a single fragment of the terrible truth of the future wiped that simple childish wish.

They could not remember every detail of those foggy visions. There was blood, so much and so dark. Spilling against the fair stone of the mountains carved into a temple for death and the dead.

There would be they and their siblings with only them amidst in the pool of their own ichor. before them there would be their dearest. The first sibling they called their own with a blade responsible for this atrocity extended towards their throat.

This is the fate they saw many moons ago befalling them and their most loved.

In the end they knew, they knew no vision of theirs would come false. But they had to try, even if they knew it was futile.

Lost in thought as usual, it took them a moment to realize where they were again. They sighed as they grabbed the railings tightly, grounding themselves against the allure of the terrible visage.

There was a time when their ability was spoken with much splendor, where they would be happy to receive a look into the future. Alas, those days had passed just like the autumn but a month prior.

Shaking their head from side to side, they looked below to their cult and realm, trying to clear their mind. It was, as it always has been dark as far as the eye could see in the low underground tunnels of their home. With only the light of the graceful moon shining above the cracks and fissures aided with the luminescent mushrooms that littered their domain helping carve away the abyss.

It was comfortable to look upon once, to see the unjudging dark enveloping their land. But that was before they had seen their vision, that was before they had learned that the dark did indeed judge. Just in a way none could understand until one was troubled so greatly as they…

Ignoring the dark they focused on the once soothing cold of winter, dulling one’s senses just enough to ignore the pain be it physical or even mental. It gave them much respite once, but now just like the darkness it only elevated their frustration.

Even with all of that, such trivial things as dark or cold could really affect a God even with their new found strength with their frustrations. No, Shamura was not one that was to be bested. Still even with their pride still sung within their heart and a cloak most well, it could not stop the shiver that spawned from their very heart.

Bringing their cloak closer and their eyes away from the dark, they decided that this much night air was more than good enough. With a yawn that came almost naturally they took off to their chambers, they needed rest as expected.

Arriving at Their chambers was simple enough, really the balcony was right outside. Not bothering to disrobe they quickly made their way to their bed, they would not wear them tomorrow anyhow and it was not as if they had no other robes they could use.

Sliding into the sheets, comforting silk met their body, warm and unrestricting. Almost as if on the clouds themselves they wrapped it around themselves and as snug wool pillows met their head they were ensured that it would be a dreamless night.

Now to sleep… . . .

After the thousand turn and toss they quickly choose to retract their claim of a quick night’s rest. Indeed, they had a feeling it would be rather the opposite for whatever reason.

Opening their eyes they began to gaze outwards around, if they were stuck tossing and turning maybe putting that mind of theirs to some use would help them tire themselves out.

First that met their gaze was the room they were in. It was as expected, not some grand and lavish room meant for a particularly pompous king or a queen. But a spartan living quarters that could belong to anyone… that was their size of course and barring the bedding itself as it would be unrealistic of anyone to assume they should sleep upon anything but silk and wool. They were in favor of utilitarian living, not ascetic ‘living’ if it could even be called that.

Really did anyone even wish to live in such… And here they were, instead of sleeping they were just wasting their mind on something like this, there was no way this could tire them out.

They rolled their eyes as they tried to bury themselves further into their now much colder sheets that seemed to strangle their throat as opposed to their previous unrestricting nature.

Trying to loosen the fabric they try to put their back towards the wool pillow which seems to bring a strange ache to their head as they sink into the soft material in the least comfortable way. With a cry of frustration they free themselves after tearing the silk away with their claws.

Breathing in and out, as deep as it could go and out as slow as they can manage. They slowly focus back to their bedding which now stood ruined.

For a moment they couldn’t help but to regret their quick action caused by frustration but then again, surely it was better that they were free than if they had stayed and simply let themselves get buried.

After all, they did not make mistakes. This was the better option.

With a sigh they get up from the bed, it turns out they were not tired enough. Surely it should be expected that they would have much more energy than a mortal, they simply needed to stay awake further to tire themselves enough. ‘What better way than to inspect the preparations’ they thought as they tossed the ruined pieces of silk to the corner of the chamber.

 Walking out of their chambers to their temple they took in to walk back to see and confirm all was according to the plan, they needed to be perfect for tomorrow. All needed to be perfect; they had to be ready for war tomorrow against the… traitor.

They stopped momentarily at the thought. They sighed, It was still a hard idea to accept, their brother being a traitor. A heretic that had casted their teachings and has gone to his own path for whatever misbegotten reason.

They could still remember the day when one of their followers came to them with the grim news. Their brother, the traitor had esca- left their temple at the dead of night. They could still remember the sheer disbelief they had felt, the way they had searched every corner of their own temple to make sure he had left them even while knowing full well they had run off.

It was unexpected, it was rage inducing, It was… heartbreaking. To hear him leave them with not even the courage to come to them first. Their claw tightened at the sheer audacity their brother had shown with just the start of his little rebellion.

Surely however, what had made their descent into heresy worse was their next actions. The way they had taken the followers of all four of them to their rank with false promises, the way they had marched them to the tallest mountains to claim superiority above them all, the way they had forgotten them all as he had closed his temple to all, forever casting them away.

Their claw loosened, swallowing the small lump in their throat they continued their walk. ‘No matter’ they thought, no matter what slight was done against them, it would be paid back soon enough. After all, it was as expected.

In a short while they found themselves at their first stop, the armory. The forges where the war would take shape first. Where the bellows infinitely churned the tools necessary for their art, a place most holy for them and their followers.

Blades of many with axes to follow. All spears put neat and well with all arrows heads casted to perfection. A certain smile found their way to their lips as they couldn’t help but be pleased with the simple, brutal but yet effective artistry at work.

All made so well against the fires of the forges, still pulsing with heat that bellowed from within the eternal stone, beating against the venerable steel. Craftsmanship unfound in anywhere else…

Wait. Stopping their stroll through the sets they took upon a closer inspection, which showed many weaknesses once not seen. Some bent where it should be straight and vice versa, all showing wear and tear from past battles unworked in the forge. While some showed even rust where it would prove deadly only to the user of what should be venerable steel.

How were they supposed to wage war with these? They would not be going against the steel of a mere rival God, but the traitor’s army. They would be going to slaughter if they tried to. Just who gave them the orders to make these abominations?

How had this come to be? Who was responsible for all of this? Setting out to find a blacksmith was not so hard as they were already passing by even when they were doing their inspection.

At first it was nothing out of the ordinary until they had realized that The blacksmiths were not of their lot but that of Heket, if they could be called as such.

Following the blacksmith to their workshop they were even more revolted at the sight they had seen.

They saw the blacksmiths milling about instead of working to keep the forges going. Blunt swords and bent shields somehow considered fit to be used, bits of casted metal around with rust clinging to them greeted them.

All with flaws unworked on with the idea of them being ‘good enough’.

Outraged by the sheer audacity committed by these cretin they could almost feel their teeth grind against one another. Just what was their sister thinking? It was obviously their order which has set them in their current way, made them forge these monstrosities.

Then again, this is what could be expected of her wasn’t it. They felt the thought worm their way into their mind further and further as they stood in awe at sight in front of them.

Their sister was always of good enoughs and never of perfection was she? In a normal time of lackadaisical days maybe they could be looked past with only a slight show of unapproval. But here, now? In a time when they needed more than just ‘good enough’?

Unacceptable.

Laziness, the lack of drive, unwillingness to better one’s self, these were the only ways to describe her were they not?

Couldn’t she prove herself to them with more than just good enough just once?

They groaned as they bit down harder and harder. There were a lot of things she would have to prove if she were to ever take her place as their right hand. A lot of things indeed.

Yet, they could not bring themselves to be too disappointed in her. Yes she has shown her unreliability once more, but still there would be more times where she could prove herself to them.

It would be fixed alright. Fetching their own blacksmiths and letting them correct the mistakes was not hard. Before long sounds of metal beating against iron sounded across the temple.

With that taken care of they could finally feel their teeth relax as they sighed with a ghost of a smile, everything the way they were meant to be.

They could see it now even in a small vision. All steel in the hands of the warriors of theirs. Clashing against the heretic, though details were somewhat odd frankly…

Chasing away the doubt much like the warriors from their vision, they continued. There was much to attend. No reason to get stuck on things that do not matter.

Next stop was the Barracks, the path to the barracks was not a long from the armory as expected. In any invasion of any kind it was a needed feature. Though that had never come to pass, it paid to be ready.

Maybe like right now…

Shaking their head they tried to clear the absurd thought away, there was no way he could have figured out what was to be their fate. Even if they knew, they would have mounted an offensive right now.

They knew he was competent, much more than competent at times even and reached the perfection they were known for. As befitting of their once right hand, one did not reach such a position without some skill.

But it was irrelevant as he was no longer their right hand, nor did he know their plans. He was to be caught without defence and… brought to justice.

With thoughts stirring in their head they almost did not notice as they entered the barracks. It was a large part of the temple, it was spartan as furniture went as well as luxury. It was not expected from a warrior to need much other than arm and armor after all.

They saw rows after rows of neat armor meant to be worn under cloak, all straps holding the elegant and yet so effective armor, the expertise that would go unseen in battle, unnoticed almost. Much like their sister almost in their court.

At least, It was satisfying to see that here their warriors would remain unchallenged, they thought. Their warrior’s needed the gear to survive what was to come, they each needed to be protected amidst what they were to face.

But before they could be on their way back to their inspection something caught their eye. It was almost unnoticeable amidst all the others, but in a moment that had them look around the armor stands they noticed that it was all wrong

The straps were too large for even a beast and the armor, it almost looked like it was not even connected together.

On Top of all that, they all showed oddities that would prove too chaotic for any kind of planning. They were strange creations that could never fit in a battlefield, armor that bent like sheets of paper with helmets too long to make sense.

Looking at the others it told a similar tale. All different than each other in ways that made them all more strange than unique.

Their claw flew in a moment over one of the armor sets, and as expected it couldn’t take a single hit with all the unnecessary additions more or less bolted on.

Their eyes twitched as they discarded the broken piece of useless steel and leather. How could their soldiers wage war if their equipment was this strange?

All haphazard, all chaotic…

They didn’t need to guess too long after that to know who was responsible for all of this. Their youngest, Leshy.

Their brother was a being of Chaos, that much was true and expected. They would be a hypocrite if they could ask their brother to stop their ways, their very nature when they themselves were known for their ferocity at times. But yet, in such a time where they could not afford even the slightest deviation from their visions could spell doom for them?

Apathy was the only way to explain how their brother could think to take such action. It was the sheer disregard their brother could show when he found things that he showed no interest towards.

Was this just a joke for the worm? Was their fate and the fate of The Old Faith just a game for him?

Their digits groaned under the pressure as their claws clenched. There were many things they wished to get their hands on at that moment. Maybe to finally show their youngest at least the concept of respect with it.

Yet, they could not bring themselves to blame them too harshly. Indeed they had done a great wrong with their casual dismissal of their own order and instead letting his own armorers run wild, but it could be fixed.

Waking the armorers was much like waking the blacksmiths, a single order given to a passing follower and in a few short moments before the clang of steel and fastening of leather rang out from the workshops dulling out the headache they were subjected to.

Each one they would meticulously check, test if need be. If they will fail them here, then how are they supposed to not fail against their br- the traitor?

After what felt like hours examining the strap that held each armor, they were finally satisfied or as close as they could get. All armor polished and readied for use by all kinds of followers and beast alike. None could truly withstand a God surely, but this was… acceptable, for now.

As they were leaving they decided to just peek into the future of the armor and saw that it was as they predicted. Armor would not protect against a God but it would protect against his forces.

A blow from a sword of a warrior grazing against a pauldron before being met with righteous teeth… wait, teeth?

They almost stumbled before straightening themselves against the cold stone pillars. They felt their head ache at the vision. Why was their sight so murky today? They could barely gaze a moment into the future and it was all muddled to oblivion. Was their precognition fail-. No, that was not possible.

Shaking their head they carried on, there was no need to doubt themselves. Their vision was true as always, as expected.

It was true, they were sure of it.

Besides, has their vision ever failed them before? It had not failed when they were attacked by their rival Gods, it had not failed when they saw the coming of their siblings from the stars above. It had not failed when it showed them their brother’s soon treachery. Though sometimes they wish it had failed at least this once.

Without even meaning to, they stumbled upon the arena. Where one met warrior against warrior, where one found themselves in their perfect selves as they showed them what truly was beneath their simple mortal coils.

Truly a place that would bring an end to their worries, well it was not worries per say but simple concerns.

Warriors each with a sword to call their own, battling with precision and elegance. Each strike thought with reason, unlike that of a beast that only relies upon rage and instinct.

Sparks flying in all directions as the swords clash against the other with shields blocking the next. The footwork to avoid each quick jab… dodging away from hits instead of fighting back…

Taken aback for a moment, looking around some more a similar tale followed, each warrior instead of standing their ground just gave away in a cowardly display. How were these warriors supposed to hold the line and push back when they fought like cowards?

It took them no time to single out the one that found themselves on the ground, who looked unashamed at such a shameless display of failure. picking themselves up and carrying on as if they had not just brought disgrace to all. It was almost like seeing their brother again at his first sacrifice.

Still trying to surpass the awful memory, few of the six eyes she had twitched as they felt their claw squeeze against their palm. How were they this unabashed? It was so insulting. Were they just doing it on purpose? did they simply do it to annoy them?

Unclenching their palm they looked upon the warrior that failed them. He was a young one, with mandibles of blue and eyes of turquoise. Moving towards him it took him a moment to realize he was facing the eldest of The Old Faith. It took him another moment to realize his body was high on the air as they took them by their training gear.

Entering the mind of the would be follower was easy, seeing where they got these notions of cowardice was also easy, almost unneeded.

It was none other than their cowardly brother who had thought them.

It took much of them to not crush the little crab in their grasp as they begged and wept, not because of the cowardice but for the show they had put on with their tears. Each moment reminding them of the day where they knew their second youngest would bring much dishonor to them in the coming time.

Maybe against their better judgement they let go of the mewling welp.

Tossing the now terrified creature full of tears that reminded them too much of their cowardly brother. They set out to fix the wrong they saw, they would show this arena what was true battle. Even if it would take the remaining part of their night they would make sure such traitors nor weaklings would dare ruin their plans.

After what felt like eternity they left the arena. They were to say the least, tired. The training took more off of them they would like to admit, not because the warriors were able to match them but because they were unable to.

It was infuriating to unteach the notions of dodging instead of answering a strike with a riposte, or how to keep their footing when attacked instead of relenting.

Even at the end of their lecture they still couldn’t do as they wished, as they perhaps needed but it was close enough, and it would be enough.

It would be enough even if the idea of ‘good enough’ gave them much disgust.

They didn’t even need to gaze to the future to know that would be more than enough. Why would they when they knew it was going to go as expected? It was simply a waste of time.

Besides, their brother would not have raised an army to match theirs yet alone all three even if they were subpar… Then again their brother was not unlike them when it came to battle now were they?

No, perhaps not.

They felt the door to their chamber before they could see it. One claw rubbing the spot on their head and with the other throwing the door open they entered.

It was as they left it, with the blankets still torn asunder. With a sigh that came from deep within they slowly made their way to their bed.

Even without the blanket, it was still comfortable. Though the wood of the frame groaning under their weight was not really pleasant. Also the strange wetness of the pillow was… odd. coupled that with the odd sting in their eyes…

Rubbing at their eyes they looked up, staring at the ceiling of their chamber.

Just why?

Why was nothing going the way it was supposed to be going?

Nothing was as expected and all was just…

Wrong.

Nothing they did felt like it was good enough anymore. Each part of their preparations felt worse than the last, the weapons were still subpar, the armors were falling apart, their warriors couldn’t even hold a sword correctly.

How could their followers… No, their siblings fail them so badly?

As the frustration crept within once more they started to remember the better days, the days before it was so much more perfect. Their warriors were trained by them personally, their armor and arms were done to their specifications. It was all just perfect.

From their own followers to their siblings, they were all just failing them. One by one they were refusing their vision, each giving away excuses for their faults and never accepting blame.

Their follower’s at least had a semblance of competence within, but their siblings? They all just failed them. They each failed them in so many damnable ways.

They just wished Narinder was with them…

Taking a second to part their claws away from their head they looked above to the roof of their chamber. They blinked as they let the idea sink down further and further.

They wish they were with him now, instead of their brothers and sister they wished that Narinder was with them where everything would be easier. His blacksmiths would cast the greatest steel made to perfect the art of death. His armorers assemble the most impeccable armor to stop the coming of death for just a little longer in battle. His Soldiers, the ones that fight with no fear of their lord’s embrace as they march to their assured deaths.

Everything would have been easier.

It would be… perfect.

They wished for him to be back with them, things to go back the way they used to be before all this… mess.

Their mandibles quivered as a lonely drop of ichor found its way off their eye. They wished for so many things, so many things that felt so distant now. They wished for things to return to the way they used to be. Alas just as much as death couldn’t flow backwards, just as much as how they couldn’t undo their mistakes…

Another drop escaped them, It was their mistake was it not? It was surely their mistake of showing him the ideas of evolving when his domain should never have such ideals utilized.

They still could remember the conversation that led to that, could still remember how they were saddened for he could not create like the rest of them.

He had come to them as usual when this ancient sadness came again to the forefront of his mind, invading his senses. The sadness that fattened with each new sibling who could change unlike him.

It was easy back then, just to assure him of his place within the cult made of only the two of them. That they would change and he would stay the way he was, an equal balance set in a dance of two. Upset with the coming of more.

They did not wish to remember the way they looked upon them with his three eyes that shone the way they did when they first came to their world in a comet screaming through the skies. The way he looked so unsure, so unhappy as he had when he found the lacking of his domain.

They had assured him that he was just as important, assure them that creation was not any lesser than destruction, assure them that their siblings were not looking down on their second leader just because all that he was.

They wish it worked, they wish he just backed down and smiled back as he accepted his place. That he would just apologize for bothering them again, and that they could assure them that he had not bothered them at all.

However, that's not what happened.

He just stopped. He just looked within their eyes and claimed that maybe he should just… go. That he should just embrace it instead, embrace oblivion and destruction. Tell them that the Lord of Death should have no business with the living world.

As they saw the will within his eyes, they knew they were serious. He would leave them alone, he would reach his realm and forever bar the gates to stop them. He would leave them, their first brother, their first little headache that caused so much upheaval in their life.

They were weak in the end. The way their heart broke with his, as they couldn’t imagine a future without him by their side.

So they did it, they told him of change. They told him they could become different, evolve and become something he wished. So they could perhaps create in their own way.

As his smile grew with the idea of this new novelty, so did theirs fell as they saw the future that they charted for the whole of The Old Faith with just those simple words.

‘’So try brother. For my domain is knowledge and it is ever evolving, so can yours maybe.’’

The words spoken so long ago now felt like a curse that broke them down with each letter. They hated it, they hated every moment of that cursed memory and they hated themselves for all that came to be after that.

They were sure of it.

Shuffling up the mountains so far high, it was like a blur under the grayed out skies blending with the snow covered mountain.

Each begrudging and tiresome step after another taken with only vitriol to fuel it. The snow under their feet sinking down as it gets muddied more and more with each step taken behind them as untold warriors made their way up the mountain.

They had to give it to their brother, he had made sure every step of the way would be more painful than the one before. It was already hard marching an army up a mountain but one with snow on top? It would sap the strength out of their troops even before they would reach their destination.

As expected, most clever of their brother.

Still, they marched on. With all four armies combined they trudged through the mountain even as mud claimed more and more of their ranks as they sank down into it, before ever getting to taste battle breathing their last breath under the earth.

They should curse their brother for such cruelty, to steal them away to his realm before they could even test their mettle.

Alas they could only find an inkling of pride where there should be rage.

Eventually they reached the gates of the temple, manned by ram and ewe alike with odd species of all kinds amidst their ranks. All with weapons edged to perfection and armor to match, standing together as one, where theirs stood divided.

It took them much time to breach the gates, their warriors dying by the hundreds at the forefront as the lots of their siblings filled the ranks after them. Their warriors meeting their end to the onslaught just so that their sibling’s lot could stand a chance.

They should be howling in rage as the now mindless horde of fanatics led by their siblings fight against the honorable heretics of their brother. They should take apart the heretics who fought against the horde of teeth and claws with their swords and shields.

But they could only share a ghost of a smile in their lips as they stood unmoved. Yet again pride bloomed within as they marched on with only lethargy and perhaps apathy keeping them company.

Then they came to the last hurdle, perhaps the last heretic still able to hold a blade against them. With many broken bodies of their own warriors beneath his feet and the lot of Kallamar watching from far away, cowering behind their shields as they looked upon the wolf.

Melvin stood alone, his curved blade from lands so far away in their hands as they stood in front of the gate they had no chance to bar them against. There he stood, silent with only judgement within his eyes and perhaps even disgust.

They should be enraged by the sheer notion of judging them when he was but an insect where he stood. How could he even wish to criticize a god?

However yet again, they couldn’t help but be proud of their brother for having a witness with faith this strong when their end was so assured. They could even believe the old mutt felt no fear within his heart as they manned the gate of their Lord.

They almost found themselves asking him to move aside, to tell him he would be allowed to come with them once they take his brother back to the fold. To serve him once they claim back their brother away from his folly. But his gaze filled with nothing but fury told them, he would not listen.

They wish they could say he put up a fight. That he fought with valor befitting of a warrior, but no. For a moment he stood valiant and in the other he stood impaled against their youngest’s claws. Played like a toy, as they dangled uselessly in Leshy’s still apathetic grasp as he flexed his claws with boredom written in his face.

With shame plastered against his still face he uttered words that were only heard by their brother. Who looked on from his throne with only sorrow, his body almost like a statue sitting with their scythe by their side.

There was no need for words, they knew what was to happen. Their brother would fight against them when they had only wanted him back, he would wound each one of them until only they and he would stand where they would see what would follow soon enough.

Yet they still spoke, not because they knew it would change anything but because they felt almost an obligation to him to at least try.

 With a heavy heart full of sorrow ‘’Brother’’ It was hard to make up the words as they gazed upon the near empty eyes with a similar pain behind them ‘’Your folly comes to an end, resist no more and come wit-’’

They were cut by a laughter, one so empty that came from him ‘’Why?’’ Before they could ask what he meant by his question ‘’Why are you here? Why are you slaughtering my followers? When I left for there to be no more bloodshed, why have you followed me here?’’ There it was, within his eyes a spark that could not be killed so easily. One that would ignite the battle that was sure to follow.

The answer so simple, yet so hard to make him understand ‘’I… my visi-’’

They were cut once more, now with much more vitriol ‘’Oh so it was your delusions yet again’’ his words, an offense that would be punished swiftly even if he were the one to commit back on the lackadaisical days of yore.

Now only silence followed his words before they could muster the strength once more ‘’Brot- Narinder I…’’ They couldn’t finish their words. How could they? How could they even begin to explain their rightful reasoning, that their actions were just. How could they make him see?

‘’Whatever, I am done fighting.’’ He looked below to his hands as they clenched before with a sigh ‘’I am done with seeing my followers get slaughtered. I will come with you if you spare whoever is left.’’

They were stunned into silence with the end of their sentence. In a moment their sorrow was replaced with joy they thought they could never feel again. Could the fate they foresaw be avoided? Have their visions truly been falsehoods? But before they could rejoice at the fact that their vision would not come to pass, they were horrified at the idea that they were wrong.

They were… wrong. How could they be wrong? Were they wrong in all their visions, all of this preparation, all the events that led to this moment could have been changed?

Have they truly failed their brother? Could they have spared him the misery they caused, could they have averted hurting Nari so easily?

Too lost in their own mind, unable to even notice the world around themselves. They could only hear Hekets axe as it flew at their brother to be countered at the last moment with his scythe.

In a moment their world was shifted once more as their two siblings began to fight, one so full of rage the other so confused. They tried to find their tongue before Heket spoke between each of her hits.

With full of indignation ‘’Liar! you just wish to take back your spot. Well I am not letting you take back my rightful spot, where I deserve to be!’’ She swung fast and well just to be thwarted each time as he looked at her somewhere between furious and confused.

They looked at their sister as they continued their attack towards their brother. Why was she doing that? He already gave up, they could have just gone home, they could have…

Before they could finish the thought Leshy joined his sister as he swung his warhammer. Almost taking both of them down with one mighty and uncontrolled swing meant for both and neither.  

Now with a smile that reached his branches ‘’Sorry brother but this is too much fun to pass up on, hope you don’t mind’’ His words fell with laughter as he continued his onslaught of wild swings, Narinder looked at their youngest with frustration written on his face.

Few moments later, surprisingly they saw Kallamar find himself in combat alongside them. Coming from the outskirts of the battle to try their luck with an opportunistic strike, giving themselves room to dodge if need be.

‘’He is just lying! He is waiting to attack us when he gains our trust again!’’

They looked on the travesty in front of them, this dishonorable battle where three fought against one. Where chivalry and honor was tossed away by all three combatants that made a mockery of war and battle. Where the three threw away the one chance of them all going back to the days of old for their petty little reasons.

They were calm for a moment, a moment where they saw all three of their siblings. Heket who still could not land a hit where it was almost impossible not to, Leshy who still couldn’t take the battle seriously even where his life depended on it, Kallamar who was still acting like a coward where they were three against one.

That moment passed with howl of rage the likes of which had not been heard for centuries. One that shook the core of the temple they were standing in. One that stopped their fight for one moment as they looked upon a true God of War devoid of wisdom, before the beast threw themselves amidst the fight.

Claws and teeth followed them, one guided by instinct rather than true combat prowess. A cut here, a slash there with warm and cold vitae and ichor of many.

In a moment came a blur of green where their claws reached and plucked something off from, the blur fell with scream so delicious against their ears. Then a blur of red and some yellow, there they took something red and some white that too fell but now with a thud and a gurgle. There came a scream from the blue blur, that was quieted with a bite to the parts that stick away from it as they rolled away.

In the end there was only a blur of white, they couldn’t take anything from that one. No matter what they did, all they could do was a measly slash against their middle that saw the spilling of crimson, that was answered with an intense pain that radiated from their head.

Then the blur stopped, now even harder to see. All the ones they took from were on the ground now with much red all around. While the one clad in white and red stood above them, with something poking against their throat.

Had they seen this before? It felt like… Deja Vu? Was that the word… They could ask their siblings if they knew. Maybe Nari knew something about it.  

Where was he anyway? Where was their little furball? They called out as softly as they could manage, to not scare their baby brother of course ‘’Nari… where are you…?’’ For a moment the blur grew still ‘’I need you’’ Words fell slowly away from them as the odd sensation grew in their head.

Tentatively, the white and red blur lowered himself to their level, there he stood. They could almost make an image through the haze which looked like a cat with three eyes just like their little brother. They smiled as they felt arms around their body, giving them an embrace.

There it was, their brother’s voice. Though why was it so tired? ‘’Shhh it's alright Shasha’’ They felt cold fingers find the pain radiating out of their skull, soothing the pain slightly as he whispered ‘’it's… it’s all gonna be alright.’’ He gave a pause ‘’I promise’’ They were happy their brother had come to help them. As expected of their little brother, always so faithful.

They were so lucky they had a sibling.

They wish they had more siblings.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/116636956

My Lot

 Alright, this is a short story I wrote from a request I got from Discord. It is about an interaction between their OC and the whole Bishop gang, told from sort of the point of view of Heket. It is sort of a sweet story, well as sweet as I tend to make my stories but I am sure there is enough fluf and angst for both sides here.

Oh and as usual the Ao3 link is down there if you all wanna read it there. (:

It was a quick affair, a simple chant uttered before the knife met the flesh. Simple and efficient, a rush of faith and strength washing over before pooling over one’s core. Normally, not a single thing that should go wrong barring the odd last moment regrets or a particularly unwilling sacrifice causing a ruckus that would be dealt in but a moment.

Or it should have been but somehow, someway now they were stuck deciding what to do with a newborn rabbit.

Trying to dull out the absurdity of their situation she rubbed at her eyes, trying to focus on what was being said in front of her to take her attention away. As expected her siblings were talking endlessly about how to proceed without coming to a conclusion.

To think they came to this moment just because of a sacrifice their chaotic little brother chose from her lot, who happened to be pregnant. Then the said follower giving birth just before getting sacrificed instead of passing away with the child to save them the trouble.

Well At the very least the she rabbit had relented quickly and without causing further trouble she thought, which was probably the only silver lining to their current situation.

All these strange and totally not planned incidents led them to this very moment. Instead of attending to their lot and perhaps changing their bandages or really anything than to waste their time here. Instead they had to sit around and speak on a subject so benign it should be left for their respective witnesses to deal with it.

Groaning softly against her arm, she looked around lazily. She would curse at her once follower, but in all honestly their chaotic brother was more at blame for their predicament than the obedient but perhaps unwilling follower. The very same brother who was snickering as he was watching their siblings argue from the side.

If she could hear her own voice over the shouts coming from Kallamar arguing with their eldest, she would be giving the bush worm a piece of her mind. However, that would have to wait. For now.

With a sigh she once again tried to pay attention to their conversation.

A shrill voice belonging to Kallamar rang out ‘’I am telling you, this will not end well!’’ Rolling her eyes at their second youngest’s antics she focused on their eldest instead.

Running a claw over their face and with a much calmer but obviously strained voice Shamura spoke ‘’My venerable Brother, can you explain to us how an infant is to cause any harm to us?’’

Pointing at the infant in question who was currently babbling in her basket ‘’It is obviously going to try to hunt us down when it is older! Can't you see it?’’ Looking at the rabbit that was smaller than a single finger of her she normally would have laughed at the suggestion coming from their brother. How could a mortal even hope to do that? Alas, she couldn’t make her amusement known due to… the injuries.

Great she thought, now she was conscious about her throat on top of being bored out of her mind.

Lost in the thought and desperately trying to stop the creeping pain she almost couldn’t hear the cries coming from the newborn. It was shrill noise as expected, reverberating against the stone temple walls and echoing back to them.

She had to give it to her, she had good lungs, but yet it was rather futile. Desperately crying out for someone that could not come to her aid was just a waste of time. No use spilling tears when it got you no results.

Now only if their brother could figure that out she thought, now with a smirk she could almost ignore the continued wailing. Almost.

Looking at her siblings she didn’t see any reaction from any one of them at the sobs coming from the newborn. Kallamar was still complaining as he tended to, Shamura was still trying to speak some sense into him with limited success and Leshy was just being Leshy.

With a deeper than usual sigh she moved her hand to the infant. She did not know much about child rearing but she did know that she was probably just hungry. It was her domain afterall.

It didn’t take much of her power to satiate the little thing, but slightly more than she thought it should have been. Suddenly her smirk grew into a smile for some odd reason, and before she could stop herself words fell off her mouth ‘’Ravenous little thing ain’t you?’’

It was strange finding fondness in her own voice in that moment, then again anything but a raspy hoarse noise was hard to hear out of her these days.

Lost in thought she didn’t hear her siblings until she felt Shamura’s hand on her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize what was happening as she turned her head back to face their eldest. She was met with Their four eyes looking at her expectedly.

Her usual quite heart pounding in its place it took her a moment to get her senses back enough to ask them ‘’U-um yes my eldest?’’ Her words fumbled slightly as she tried to address them properly.

They sighed before retreating their claw back ‘’I had asked you your opinion on the matter’’ She blinked at his words, all four opening and closing blankly. Right, she was still here and was supposed to add her own opinion.

What could she even really add to the conversation though? She didn’t really share their brother’s ideas of sacrificing the newborn for some odd paranoid reason felt… cruel.

Which as strange as it sounded didn’t really sit well with her. Gathering her thoughts she spoke carefully ’’I suppose we can entrust her with another follower?’’ It made sense to her, why bother with all this talk instead of letting the little nuisance be taken care of instead.

They shook their heads slowly ‘’No, we cannot do that.’’ they continued after a pause ‘’The family that would receive the child would see it as a boon we are bestowing with at best, which would upset the rest of the followers or perhaps be seen as a burden we are punishing with.’’

Right she supposed she did not really think about that, meeting her sibling’s eyes ‘’I see’’

With a tinge of disappointment she could feel radiating out of her sibling ‘’Do please pay attention to our meetings sister’’ They looked back away from them as they added quietly ‘’it is unbecoming of you.’’

Looking away to hide her shame ‘’Of course Eldest’’ Looking around to see if anyone had seen their interaction she saw Leshy giggling off to the side. Clenching her fist against her robes under the table she uttered curses unheard by mortal ears, in languages long forgotten. That worm really deserved an earful.

But as it seemed their brother was not just content with being amused off to the side after his mischief, as suddenly his arm flew towards the newborn. Snatching the little thing in one fell swoop.

She felt her slow heart skip a beat as the youngest started  ‘’Look, the way I see it there is only one way around this’’ he begun to methodically throw the basket into the air and catching it in his hand, in way that would be playful if it didn’t seem like he was enjoying his sibling’s reaction rather than the ‘game’ he was playing with the newborn.

Clearing his throat ‘’None of you are willing to sacrifice it, none of you wanna find someone to take care of it’’ In a moment his teeth shone with a bone white brilliance, taking a feral look expected of him ‘’Then I suppose it would be fine for me to take her under my wing’’

The whole counsel grew quiet in a moment as each of the bishops took in the news differently. Kallamar seemed content at the idea as she saw him visibly calm down, no doubt thinking that their brother would get bored of the little thing and discard it quickly. As for Shamura, they seemed like they were considering the option, weighing the pros and cons.

She on the other hand only felt a cold creep from within her very core, a cold that could not be explained with mere weather. Their youngest taking care of anything let alone a baby felt… wrong.

As she considered the mere idea of it all the scenarios started to fill her mind. Maybe he would leave the little thing to fend for herself in the woods to see what would happen or perhaps they would just let chaser worms take care of her and see what would come of her in the end.

Each scenario worse than the last she couldn’t stop herself before she caught the basket in the middle of his throw before catching it back, cradling the basket to her chest she spoke with a almost a feral voice ‘’She is my lot’’

In a moment, all eyes fell on her. After what felt like a century Kallamar spoke first ‘’What did you say sist-’’

‘’It is my lot, their mother was a part of my cult.’’ She frowned towards their youngest as she shielded the baby with her arms ‘’Therefore she is mine’’ she felt the gaze from their youngest crown, the green eye within looking at her without emotion.

Their youngest looked at her with contempt radiating out of him but eventually it turned to a look that screamed indigence, as if she had taken his new favorite toy away from him.

After few more moments of silence Shamura cleared their throat ‘’I see, we have reached a verdict’’ Looking between the tension between her and their youngest they continued ‘’As the newborn is a part of Heket’s cult, I declare she holds the most claim over her’’ Looking once more over the their whole family ‘’Any objections?’’

None answered their eldest until their youngest just shrugged and with almost a pout ‘’I think that's fine’’ Looking back at her with a smirk ‘’If it is fine with Heket that is’’

He only got a nod as she decided that any word she could add here would just end up fueling his amusement.

Shamura ignoring the two of them ‘’Let it be so then. Heket, second amidst the grand bishops of The Old Faith, shall be the caretaker of Julyaryn.’’ They took in their quill before writing the documents and signing the papers.

She didn’t stay long after signing her papers, only caring to send one more glare down Leshy’s way.

Without even giving proper farewells to her siblings, she teleported them away to her temple. Ignoring all the followers who tried to speak to her she quickly made her way to her chambers before locking the door.

Finally letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding she collapsed against the door.

Running her free hand through her face she desperately wished she was just dreaming or more likely going through a nightmare. Just what happened back there? Was she even thinking? She lamented her decision as she let out a frustrated groan.

She had just adopted this little mortal, without having a single clue about how to take care of a mortal let alone a newborn. What did she even want with this little mewling creature that… was crying at the moment…

Looking down on her arm she saw the little rabbit who seemed to have gone back to crying for some unknown reason. trying to think of a reason that could warrant this she ran what she knew about babies in her mind, which was not much. It should not be hungry yet she thought, she had fed the little thing back at the counsel.

 Looking at the brown furred rabbit she could tell that she didn’t intend to stop anytime soon.

Unable to take the shrill noise further she awkwardly cupped the basket with both her arms as she quietly spoke ‘’There, there?’’ She was not exactly sure what she was doing but It seemed like it was working, perhaps a little too slow for her liking still it was progress.

Cuddling her closer to her chest she tried to rock her from side to side, in a way she saw from her followers which seemed like it was doing a slightly better job.

It took the little thing a while but eventually, slowly wailing led to soft coos. With its two black eyes she looked at her, almost with awe and maybe even wonder. At the small one’s little display she felt a smile grace her lips, one that didn’t feel heavy against her wounds.

It was a small display, one that she saw many times from countless followers that came and went through her life. But it felt like this one was… special in way.

As the coos turned to giggles she thought, perhaps she didn’t know why this was happening but maybe it was good that it was happening.

After few more moments of uncertainty, almost a whisper ‘’I am with you’’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43839834/chapters/115822702

Kalamari

Alright, Hello! Welcome you all to the third episode of The Five Traitors. This time as you might have been able to guess we will be taking a look at the ol Squid boy/God Kallamar.

This chapter has taken me a while to make and I hope you all enjoy it, it is a little long but I am sure it won’t be a problem for you all. (Also the Ao3 link is down there) (:

There was a storm outside. One with great thunder that soared through the skies with a boom that reverberated across the halls and rain that can only be called a cacophony as it assaulted the walls of his temple.

With such a storm came the ocean, so fierce even the most foolhardy captains would avoid testing their luck or mettle. Once blue skies now turned grey like the murky foam that claimed the sand.

Rising above high, almost touching the clouds started the wave far away, then a moment later too soon did it come crashing against the golden beach with a force strong enough to break apart rock and stone. Just like that after such a fierce blow did it slowly recede back, with it took the pieces it claimed, to take them back with it to the unknown so far away.

In such discord, there were few who could bear it let alone enjoy it and as the Lord of these lands and the waters so ferocious he was not one of those few. Far from it in fact as he was one of many that hid from the horrid noises such storms brought, trying to cower away inside to stop the monotonous yet terrifying screams of nature.

Hiding away would perhaps be too harsh as he was only choosing to stay in his chambers. One could even say that he wasn't even really a choice and he was just getting ready for… a visit

Indeed, if one were to come to his chambers uninvited they would see him with his collection. Taking stock of his tools of war, checking his blades and scepters alongside many assortment of holy weapons.

Of course, such a thing would never happen. No one would sneak into his chambers of course, to see him not assorting his weapons and instead curled against the wall shaking. On the verge of tears over such a small thing as a storm, covering his ears in an attempt to stop the cacophony…

No, no one would ever see him like this, a God in such a pathetic form. Indeed No one ever has… other than one but he would not really be with them after they were done with their little visit.

After the visit there would be no one who could claim to have seen him cower before such a benign thing as a storm. After the visit there would never be anymore ridicule, mocking or indifference. There would only be soothing ignorance to his real pitiful self, as he would be left as the third in the line up of bishops. Forgotten as he was always meant to be.

Always spoken with dismissal if spoken at all. Always swept under the dark where none could see him and cause harm. Always be seen as invalid and protected even though he was fully able to protect himself if need be, at least in theory.

Of course, it would always stay as a theory as he was currently stuck against the wall of his chamber. No, not stuck, just preoccupied with preparations.

After another particularly loud lighting which came too close to his temple for comfort he looked up at the sudden feeling of wetness against his tentacles. Has the storm outside that had laid claim to his realm, to have come to take the last of his respite away from him? How had it breached the sanctit-

Oh… It was not rain. Black as the skies above it was ichor. wiping at his eyes he changed the ‘verge of tears’ to ‘in tears’ as now he shed few more indignant tears at his own inadequacy.

Just how much of a coward was he? Just how much of a failure? How much of a mistake?

Eyes burning with ichor he buried his head against his tentacles, trying to stop them pouring out with limited success.

What if someone saw him like this? What if one of his followers saw him weeping away in his room where he was meant to lead them in just a few hours time? What Would they think of him?

He assumed they would mostly just be disappointed but then again perhaps empathy would have been possible not too long ago. After all his apothecaries were known for their sympathy as well as their healing as one bred the other and the other complimented the first. Surely though, they were not really  apothecaries anymore were they?  not after they showed up at least…

No, he would not get empathy if they saw him like this. Not that he could blame them really.

He was not really given that by his own family, why would he get any from the ones he was supposed to lead?  No, it was just wrong to expect them to march to their doom and also pity him like the rest of everyone he had ever known… barring him. Ignoring him he pondered to the rest of his family.

There was his sister, if were to be seen by Heket there would not even be pity much less empathy. She would take one good look at his form and the wretched bile within her would rise to squash him where he stood. She would strike out in full force and in but a few short words he would be begging for what counted as a lecture to end. She would ask if he was truly the Lord of Plague, truly one of the Bishops of the old faith, truly a brother she could accept. There he would stand, almost in trial as he would mutter excuse after excuse, trying to get her to stop for a moment so he could breathe, maybe to beg her enough so she would stop assaulting his ears with her often thunderous voice.

But it wouldn’t work, it never really did. In a few minutes he would go from feeling saddened to pathetic and to miserable shortly after. Of course, she never did any of these because she hated him. No, she never really truly looked down on him. She was just giving criticism. Indeed it was him who was just too thin-skinned, she was just offering suggestions if he had just looked beneath her wording and just read between the lines… really, he was just a snowflake wasn’t he?

Then there was Leshy, there would be pity there. Lots of it in fact… After all the mocking laughter there were loads of sympathy. Each time he would howl in delight at his expense, there was always understanding hidden deep within. Each time he would whisper behind him where he couldn’t perceive just to see his reaction. Each time he would stalk him through his lands to haunt him until he couldn’t take it.

Really, it was just that He couldn’t take a joke. So what if he would lay restless each night where his ears would be worn down due to his shrieks. Where he would spend days sleepless trying to soothe them with no success, just before passing out of exhaustion into a merciful slumber. So what if, he would be looking behind him even in the sanctity of his own temple, always expecting to be followed for each step he took. Where he would station apothecaries at each of the doors just to get a semblance of safety amidst the paranoia he found himself in. So what if the only times he got to sleep without exhausting himself he kept a dagger beneath his pillow just to be safe. Really, if he could just loosen up then maybe he too would be laughing with him.

Lastly there was indifference given readily by their eldest Shamura, sweet indifference and ignorance at his sheer existence. Someone to be swept under, to be forgotten so all could ignore his inadequacy. It was perhaps the most merciful response to his being, no ridicule nor barely hidden disgust hidden with criticism and lectures. Just looking the other way and acting as if he simply didn’t exist.

If he could just be more like his other better siblings, then perhaps he could be given attention to. Then again his siblings weren’t like him, they were not failures.

Leshy never feared a single thing amidst this earth, not mortal nor beast, even their eldest up to a certain point. He simply did as he pleased even when one begged him to stop, nothing short of death would stop him. Only if he was so cruel.

Shamura was perfect, they were perfection made reality. They stood as the eldest amidst them all, one that reigned above them all as was his rightful place in their A quinte- no, their quartet. There was no being like them, as one could never reach perfection. One could only hopelessly follow it, chase it around until maybe they could catch a glimpse of it on the horizon. There was no hope for him though, he was not fast in this race nor enduring enough. He was slow as a turtle and as energetic as a sloth.

As for Heket, well she never shed a tear in her life. Not once in their uncountable years had he seen her shed a single drop of a tear. Not when she lost her first witness when she sacrificed herself for her, not when she lost villages full of her followers to starvation, not when their sibling left them…

In contrast he wept the first time he had to sacrifice one of his followers. They wanted him to do it, they practically begged him to take their life so he could be one with him. He could still remember the cold stone of his temple as he stood in front of all his siblings, all looking, judging.

He wept as expected, as soon as he felt his heart stop. In front of all his followers and siblings he wept over a simple mortal. He could still feel the disappointment from all their eyes, baring one. Heket shaking her head as Leshy snickered behind her, even Shamura paid enough attention to look away from him. All deep within carried pity for him that day, baring one. The cruelest of their siblings carried not pity, nor disgust. He carried sympathy so unwanted.

He carried that wretched feeling within himself as he walked up to him after the debacle. He walked up to him so callously and took him by the hands to guide him to his realm where he got to see his beloved follower yet again. He wept once more there, but this time it didn’t stung as bad as he told his final goodbyes to his most faithful, without the gaze of the rest of his siblings, baring him.

That misbegotten brother of his, he carried the belief of him being capable within himself. He never saw him for what he truly was, he always looked at him as if he had potential deep within instead of failure. A fool and a cruel man he was.

The same cursed brother who would have taken his hands even now, to ask him what was wrong as he did in days like this so long past. Today he wouldn’t know what to tell him but back then he told him it was the thunder and the rain that made him weep and nothing more.

He should have mocked him for standing as a god and yet being afraid of something so laughable, something that had no way of actually hurting him even back when he was much younger. He should have lectured him, told him his cowardice was a shame he brought to The Old Faith, he should have laughed at him for his weakness, he shouldn’t have even asked him what was wrong, he should have just left him to his devices and attend their court instead.

No, he just had to embrace him. He just had to look him in the eyes and tell him that no rain nor thunder could haunt him when he was with him. He had to give him the only thing he was good with, his first blade. Tell him that he didn’t need to ever be afraid as long as he was willing to fight.

He cursed him the day they sparred against one another in those halls, the day where he found something he was not a failure at. The day where he learned he hadn’t needed to be taken care of as an invalid and that he could be strong.

How he hated his brother for he took him out of his quiet dark corner and showed him the stars he came from. Promising him all that was under their grand light if he just fought for it, not realizing he was wasting his time.

Sudden anger now coursing through his veins he suddenly looked up from his corner, still on the ground with his tentacles up to his chest. Wiping at his eyes yet again, he got up slowly. He couldn’t just stay here to mop, even if it was the only other thing he was good for.

When the last of his tears dried, he looked around to take stock of his options. In his weapon rack he saw many weapons he had used in the times when even he was needed.

Scepters made for war, their gold glinting against the jewels adorning them. His hand momentarily went across one of their handles before receding. No, he needed something closer.

As his hand moved back he spotted his smaller collection. Daggers of all kinds, all lining the walls with each promising him safety allowed from such a hidden weapon. He had to admit, it was a good idea to carry one be they under a pillow or in battle. Still, he also needed some distance between him and his brother if he ever even got to fight him before he would be sidelined by his more capable siblings.

Not even looking at the holy hand grenades he moved to his most favorite part of his collection, swords of all sides in their individual cases. There were many to choose from, some straight and narrow, some curved and graceful. In the end however he chose the saber, standing taller than any mortal, Forged by blacksmiths from so far away. It would be useful.

Before he could leave his chambers to wash away the ichor, before anyone could spot him. His gaze fell on a forgotten part of his collection. In the far corner, he saw it. It was a small blade, one standing just about a mortal's height. Forged before he came to this earth from the holy lights high above, it was his first blade.

He didn’t know what possessed him to move closer to the rightfully forgotten relic, if it could even be called as such. Gingerly opening the small case, he took the weapon by the handle. It was far from easy to wield with his new size, but somehow it still felt natural within his grasp.

A high swing and a low strike, it was… unneeded. It was far too small to be used as a sword and far too big to be a dagger, it was just awkward to handle on top of that. Bringing this piece of loathed history was just a mistake…

Then again, he too was a mistake so it was only right that he would bring it to possibly his doom.

The track to the temple was unpleasant, that much was to be expected really. Between the still ongoing storm and the mountainous path, it had made everything more miserable than it had to be. Then again, maybe it had to be miserable. After all, they did come uninvited, didn't they.

Just another one of his brother’s cruelties he thought as his tentacles moved up the path. Why had he found his temple here of all places? Did he assume they would come for him one day and wanted to make it as hard as possible? or Perhaps he wanted to make it impossible for any of them to visit him, then again why would he visit his brother?

Perhaps he did it because he could. It was possible that he made his temple up on these mountains because he could do so unlike him. He was strong and independent enough to climb such high with his followers and establish such a bastion in a place so uninhabitable.

Perhaps, he just wanted to look down upon them from his castle so far high up.

Lost in thought he didn’t hear from the cacophony when one of his aphoteceri- warriors fell to her death, or at least he acted like he hadn’t heard her cries. She was no one of importance, just a mother of three with a husband lost when a prank of his brother got out of hand. Someone who worked at the cult's bakery when not in the sick bay as a nurse.

Someone who hadn’t cried for him when they fell to the stone jutting out of the side of the cliff, who didn’t ask for his mercy, who he couldn’t help because it would show him as a weakling yet again.

Forward he walked, not confident nor willing but he moved forward nonetheless.

The initial breach was bloody, as expected. His brother had raised good warriors, all who carried his name in their lips as they dove into the battle they had no chance of winning. While his soldiers fell with faces full of sorrow and anguish. Only if he was good enough to raise them as well as he.

Eventually however, even their zeal gave out. All coming back to the realm of the living from their deserved slumber to protect their master even as their bodies broke below them it wasn’t enough. In the end, they all broke away to torn limbs and broken bodies.

So they reached the gate to his throne room. Wide open with him still sitting on his throne looking at them with eyes that spoke nothing but spite.

How cruel he was, as they walked past the broken bodies of his protectors torn asunder. How his eyes didn’t twitch with indignation, as their sister stepped over a small mound made of bodies as she didn’t even bother to look down, or when his brother Leshy held a wolf within his grasp squeezing at his ribcage like a toy as he looked around bored like this was all some sightseeing.

How he hadn’t looked away as the wolf’s last words fell on the deaf ears of his master. He cried ‘F-forgive m… me-e lord for I- I… have failed-d’ as his Lord's breath hadn’t hitched for but a moment.

Now they stood, four looking at the Lord of Death as he sat still.

Then after a moment that stretched over a millenia Shamura spoke, the one that seemed least interested in this affair. ‘’Brother, Narinder. We have come to take you back’’ He looked at the Master of War at their words for a moment, surely they didn’t mean that had they? Their brother should not be allowed back, he couldn’t be allowed back… should he?

A voice rang out from the throne, one of laughter that lacked mirth that quickly fell to melancholy. ‘’His name was Melvin you know, my Witness’’ He got up from his chair slowly as he walked closer to them. He felt his grip on his sabre harden as he felt each step reverberate against the ground.

He pointed at the small mound as his voice grew colder ‘’They were the ones whom I called my priests. Lancelot the deafened’’ After a moment he added ‘’He was a grand writer. The one closer to me was Deniz, they held no title but were grand nonetheless.’’ He sighed as he gazed at the last of the ones who still could be distinguished amidst the pile ‘’Joan, youngest of them all. She was a poet an-’’

He was cut out by their sister as she spoke ‘’Quit the nonsense Narinder’’ She turned to Leshy as she held her axe closer ‘’Leshy, with me’’ Before she could take her place against him however their siblings hand stopped her.

Shamura eyed her wearily, as they sighed ‘’There is no need for such action sister, Narinder will come with us to his rightful place’’ they looked back at Narinder ‘’Won’t you brother?’’ There was almost a tinge of hope behind their seemingly uninterested voice.

He for his part looked upon his sibling for a moment, so many untold thoughts coming through his mind surely. For a moment as he looked deep into his unsure eyes, he thought that their brother would show one kindness to him and show him that he did not stand to go against their sibling’s word. Show him that all had to follow his word no matter how nonsensical and humiliating it felt, and that it was not something one could fight against. Yet again his hope was dashed across the halls broken as his eyes met the still bloodied hand of Leshy still clutching the corpse of his follower.

He shook his head before a gentle smile bloomed slowly over him, he spoke ‘’No, I don’t think I will sibling’’

At his words came a warcry from Heket, striding at their brother with full force. Swinging his warhammer Leshy joined her, barreling at him in force. He was as he looked over the battle commencing in front of him. Looking over to their eldest he looked much like a statue as they gazed at nowhere in particular.

Just then a voice rang out, coming from Heket who was deflecting a blow from their brother ‘’Come on you damn squid, be useful for once and join us!’’

Before he could apologize to her for his failure, Leshy spoke while swinging his warhammer over his head ‘’Leave the crybaby be, we don’t need that coward’’

He didn’t let their words sink deep before entering the fray, his three hearts beating down in his chest as he tried to match their brother’s style. It was easier said than done however as they were not in those halls like back in the days, his brother was not holding back.

Each strike was perfect, his ripostes were blinding as were his dodges. Each strike felt like fighting against the thunder outside as they all got reflected or turned against him with a counter. His ears rang out almost deafened by the noise of steel against steel.

What was not helping their fight was the fact that there was no cohesion between them all. Heket acted like he nor Leshy existed as she pushed further and further against their brother who brushed each of her advances. As for Leshy, he acted like it was all a free for all as he swung wildly at them all with almost a giggle emanating from him.

It all went so fast, one moment they were fighting and the next he met the stone under them, his sabre falling behind him as he heard the metal hitting the floor. Momentarily stunned it took him a while to look over to his siblings, but as soon as his eyes met them he wished he hadn’t.

Leshy was on the ground clutching his face as he shook violently, Heket on the other hand was against a pillar as she held her throat, oozing ichor slowly as she no doubt tried to curse the one that caused the injury.

Their brother paid neither any mind as he slowly made his way to him, walking slowly as he looked down on him with pity. So now he was finally kind to him, looking at him the way all should have.

Breathing deep he tried to calm down, his three hearts now feeling like they were about to tear their way out of him as he slowly realized what was to happen. He was going to die.

The primal urge to fight back was overtaken by sheer terror as he was frozen to his spot, unable to even look at his brother he instead closed his eyes. His hands to his eyes, he tried to calm himself down.

No matter what he did however, it didn’t help. Each step he took closer to him drew him closer to the inevitability. This is what he was always afraid of wasn’t it? The unstoppable constant that is death, his brother.

The thing that pushed them so far from those lackadaisical days at his temple, to now here. It was almost poetic if it wasn’t so scary.

Steps stopped close to him. A second then a minute, nothing happened. Too afraid to open his eyes he waited for his assured doom, why couldn’t his brother just finish him already? Had he have to torture him like this?

But instead of a blade striking down he heard his brother’s voice. This time it felt… odd. ‘’Why are you afraid brother?’’ He stopped shaking ever so slightly as he moved his fingers just enough to look upon his executioner. ‘’Haven’t I told you, you have nothing to fear as long as you are willing to fight?’’

He was stunned for a moment, his surprise caused by his voice just as much as his unwillingness to finish him off. ‘’I-I c-cant… I can’t fight-t I.. I’’ He tried to form words but his throat squeezed harder and harder at his attempt.

Seemingly not seeing his struggle, or perhaps because of that struggle ‘’Why so?’’

Gathering what courage he had within him he looked up, his fingers fully parted he gazed upon his brother. Now on his knee with his weapon to his side, he gave him a curious look. Breathing in deep, he let it out with a sigh ‘’I… I have no blade’’ His throat constricting further at his attempt he felt the tears finally breach as he wailed ‘’J-just end it already!’’

Just why was he still playing with him?! What was his damn game? Had he just wanted to see him in tears, did he just want to humiliate him one more time as if he wasn’t already?

Lost in thought he didn’t see his hand move to his face, gasping for a moment as he felt his paw wiping at one of the tears running down his eyes. In a voice so soft ‘’You have a blade, one so dear to me as you are’’

What blade? He thought before he remembered. His hands went to his cloak to seek his old blade to feel nothing, he felt a terrifying chill run down his body before suddenly he saw it within Narinder’s paw, offering it to him just like once before.

Hesitantly he reached out, grasping the weapon by the small hilt. His brother gave him a smile before he grabbed him by the shoulder. Slowly they got up, both upright as Narinder moved a step away from him.

He small smile crept to his lips before in a playful tone ‘’Come on Kalamari, show me what you got’’

He oddly enough returned his smile, maybe out of confusion or perhaps fear. It began, slow at first as his brother countered his attacks. His strikes were not like the ones a moment past, they weren’t softer perhaps but they didn’t carry the same intent from before.

But eventually the warm up ended as the spar or fight or really whatever this was supposed to be really started. Almost like a dance his brother struck from one side to the next, spinning a moment before jumping high. It was not really a sound idea in battle to do either but it was… Fun.

Taking his clue he started his own ‘dance’, crouching low before raising his blade high to meet his on air. Spinning on his tentacles to match his turns and weaves, to add to their play.

In the end, he couldn’t call this much of a spar, but it was something more perhaps. Something that made him forget all those years spent fearing him, something that quickly ended with the addition of another dancer who didn’t seem to care much about softening their blows.

This new dancer was not really in favor of their dance going on longer either as they struck true and quick. In a few short moments he found himself going against the newcomer alongside his brother, this time neither struck soft as they battled them.

But by sheer chance or perhaps misfortune his brother fell to his knees, a moment so wrong and horrific. Not one moment sooner he found himself on the ground also with a strange ring in his ears as they felt… odd. Something ran through his head as he looked up to meet his sibling with their claws against his brother’s throat.

Realization hit him as he understood what he had just done, he fought against his eldest. The thought terrified him to his core as his mind ran with the possibility of what was to happen to him. Would he be cast out? Would he be run through with claws? Would he…

He was taken from these portents by the gasps of his brother who struggled in the grasp of their elder. In that moment he felt horror stronger than that of the fear he felt for his own life, one for his brother’s.

So their dance ended for real this time, as his blade pierced the heart of their eldest when they seemed so intent on taking the life of his brother, overlooking his sheer existence for the last time. One moment they looked within their brother’s dimming eyes with nothing but pain and in the next they found themselves in his realm as they collapsed upon the stone.

His brother breathed hard as he looked up to him from the ground, his eyes regaining their shine as he gazed upon his blade which ran with ichor.

Offering his hand he took it in his a moment later, and they rose up from the ground just like a moment before their dance.

He felt an awkward silence settle between the two of them before the soft voice from before cut through ‘’You did good Kalamari’’ He chuckled softly ‘’Real good’’

As he felt a small chuckle rise out of him, he found himself in his embrace, He did good didn’t he?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/114866662

Froglet

Hey People, firstly sorry for the delay. As you might have heard, my country (Turkey) ain't doing so hot at the moment. Between the storms and more importantly the earthquake it has been a little hard here. luckily we weren't hit by the earthquake where I live, but we got our fair share of unpleasantness from the storm. Anyway other than that there is not much I want to say, I hope you all enjoy this one. More regular uploads will continue when I can manage. Trying work without a stable internet and cold fingers is kind of hard sadly and there is only so much a candle can heat up.

She drummed her fingers against the arm of her throne. Each tap trying to rise above the cacophony that has overtaken her temple. Each tap trying and failing to silence the clattering steel and shouts of warriors getting ready for what was to come. Tap, tap, tap, tap her four fingers went with her thumb pushing against the side of the throne, digging into the wood. She was calm, really she was. She was so calm indeed that she was barely even thinking of what was to come, it was simply off from her mind as she calmly waited… and waited… waited. Her eyes were closed, all four shut against the world and the temple she called her own. To the cut stone beneath her throne to the rustic walls that kept her cult sheltered. To the ones she used to call her patrons, now divisions and warriors that were meant to march. Really calm, really, truly calm… No, she wasn’t. She was not calm, not in the slightest. She couldn’t do this to herself. She was many things, a Goddess, a Bishop of the old faith, a sister and not a liar. Besides, she was not really someone to believe in her own lies. Though was she? Was she really not a liar? Even in that sentence there were lies if not some half truths at least. It was true she was a Goddess, Lady of Famine, the one over the domain of sate and hunger in their dance that only ended with the release of death. Then again, if she were the Lady famine then why were her patrons armed in weapons instead of scythes and buckets? Why were they getting ready for what was to come, instead of fasting in their homes? She knew the answer, but really it was better that she kept the answer away from herself. It was also true that she was a bishop of the old faith, she was the new right hand of Shamura, the first one to establish the faith. Then again, was she really? She did not really feel like she was a bishop as much as a commander for her armies now or some odd figurehead at times. She was not really preaching the perseverance that came with the abstinence of what was most vital to life and the release and euphoria that came with the feast. The dance of gorge and the fast. No, these days she was preaching the righteousness of what was to come. Of how one can only find themselves true in war and not by the release of a hot meal after a long day of work toiling in one's lot. It was true, she was a sister. Sister to Leshy, the fifth in the roster of the old faith. God of Chaos that stood over the realms of green and brown. The one that has been with them the least. The hardest to contain amongst the old faith. The one that had brought nothing but a headache to her since his lowly beginnings as a mewling worm. From the days he saw fit to set ablaze her temple in his many ‘pranks’ to his inability to listen to her heeds and warnings. Choosing to ignore where she tried to reason, to use his domain against the criticism he needed to improve. A child she could never see sitting on a throne. Sister to Kalamar, The fourth to come to their coven of Gods. God of Pestilence that stood over the blue and yellow. The one that had done nothing but cower behind her, never setting right where he erred. The one that threw the blame when her honest words came too much. The leach that took all love and gave but disloyalty, a snake she had to trust in what was to come. A coward she never wanted to see ruling. Sister to Shamura, her oldest sibling who was the leader of their quartet. The one that has given her the weapons and arms to wage the war they assured her was necessary. The sibling that has taken the honest work of her patrons in her tavern and has transformed them all to warrior kin only they could assemble. The one that has only taken when her dance was of gift and forfeit. A dance she came to break with their steel and bronze where once there was only wood and clay. A mad tyrant with a vision that may as well have been for their ruin rather than salvation. She was lastly, the sister to Narinder. The second to come in the pantheon of the old faith. The one she was to meet soon, in what was to come. The pompous prick that dared to defile the word of the old faith, dare go against Shamura’s wishes, dared to take his lot away… dared to leave her alone, dare to leave her in charge where he was meant to stay and lead with Shamura, dare to push this responsibility to her. The one that caused all of this… did he though? The traitorous thought snaked its way into her mind. Did he truly cause this all? No, well yes but… half truth she supposed, it could only be called that. He was the one that left, the one that took his followers with him away from them. Into lands they were to march in what's to come. He was the one that made his temple there, on the misty mountains where white met against white with the snow and clouds. A temple he built of marble and stone of the unforgiving silver mountains where his realm was closest to. But, she knew he didn’t want to. She knew he didn’t mean to defile a faith he helped to create in its infancy, if it hadn’t forgotten his name. He was the one that went against the creator of the old faith, their eldest sibling, Master of War, Shamura. To fight against their gospel when it stopped suiting him instead of accepting them as law as must all in the lands of the old faith, be they mortal or God. But she knew. She knew he wouldn’t have went against Shamura’s wishes if they weren’t so unreasonable as to demand him to reduce his own cult to nothing. To waste his days away from them in solitude. Though she supposed, that part did come to be eventually. He was the one that took what was left of his lot away. The pitiful bunch that stuck with him even after what had happened… She knew they had no other choice as much as he. He was the one to leave her alone. To fend for herself in this complicated dance of politics she was thrusted into from her humble patrons and tavern, to the halls of the spider. To the insolent and egotistical court of lies. To make her a moth to the webs of affairs and intrigue, she had to learn from. She knew a lot, but she still didn’t know how he could have done such a thing when he was the one that embraced her for the first time when she was but a tadpole, swimming in the unknown depths of her soon to be realm. Again came the taps; tap, tap, tap, tap as she remembered the faithful day. She was alone on those days. So long ago she could barely remember the way stars have shone when she came crashing down from the heavens above. Alone and with no purpose, wading through the swamps of her now land. She was fierce, she was strong, she was the second inevitability of the world. Hunger. She hunted as she jumped from pond to pond, letting her hunger guide her in the murky waters. Alas, she was not the strongest nor the fiercest for she met one mightier. A dark God she could best in but a moment now, but back then a foe she withered against. However, even with the odds against her, she did not meet death that day. At least not in the way she thought she would while struggling in the dark God’s grasp. A slice and a broken body in the pond where she thought she would see the last of the stars. Finding herself in the arms of the cat clad in black black with three kind eyes and a mouth full of gentle but sharp teeth. She met him then, God of Death, her second eldest. The one they would slaughter soon.   Her eyes opened, slowly as she drummed her fingers faster and faster. Tap, tap, tap, tap they went as she accepted the truth, she was a liar. A true liar. Truth was, she was none of those things. She failed in all of those or at least she was about to. With  the blood of her brother spilled over the marble of his temple, her fate would forever be sealed as a liar. In those misty towering behemoths of white would he be waiting, for what was to come. So what was to come, came. Here she was, waiting for her fate just as much as the cat clad in white with three eyes and a not so kind sharp teeth had. Tap, tap, tap, tap came the noise out her axe as her claws met the handle. She waited, she waited for something she knew was not going to happen. She waited for him to give up, to let them take him back, to let them exact punishment against him and his ilk. A miracle. But she knew, he would never give up. He would fight, now and always as he had all those faithful years ago against the Dark God. With vain hope she looked around, to see her own ilk. All discarded like toy soldiers, strewn about like mere dolls. Their sorrowful faces drowned amidst the warriors of Shamura with their proud eyes. Another thing she was to blame him for, but she knew she couldn’t. From seeing her ilk to seeing her kin. She saw Kalmar first, terrified as ever. He wore a face of nervousness, his ears hung low as his eyes peered around as if he looked all as an enemy to fear. His followers did not share their master’s fear however, all brave faces. Not proud, but brave. All holding their heads high even if their very Lord couldn’t. She held off her sneer as she looked to see Leshy. Bored eyes met hers, he looked all around lazily like it was just a game. Just some sightseeing tour he was barely paying attention to as he twirled his hammer. Unmoved by the soulless eyes that gazed back at him from the ground. His own followers now gone and dust, looking at them with emotions even she didn’t know. She held her tongue as she gazed once more which landed on them, the one that brought them here, Master of War that looked sorrowful where they were to be in delight. The crest of their brow low, hiding all that was going on behind that old decrepit mind of theirs. Looking straight at the one they came to slaughter with eyes that spoke of only regret. She felt the blood in her veins boil as her fingers went TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP. She held her venom as she looked to see him. He held himself high, ears following afoot. His brow high and eyes that shone with purpose and commitment. There wasn’t much left of his followers, but they held the same look as their master even in the end, and most likely beyond. Waiting for him to join them in his rightful domain. ‘So he is the whom I am to slaughter, one that stayed one with his ilk when the rest of his kin had not’ she thought. One that looked not apart from the bodies that once fought against the invader in his name. Shame, she thought. Shame to the ones on the ground, the ones who are about to meet it and to the rest who are still above it. So it began, after a couple of pretty words uttered by their sibling. First tap, she swung first and true. If she was to be damned, it was to be done with grace to match the one that dodged her attack. He fought with elegance she had only seen from their eldest, one that had not fought for long years even before this. He would vault over the haphazard attacks of Leshy that at times felt like they were meant for her. Just as he would vault he would dodge the opportunistic attacks of Kalamar in the same breath. He would complete the dance with a counter to her own attack that would have hit if he had waited but a moment more. Second tap, she changed tactics. Now she would try to push him instead of hitting him, trying to force him into the attacks of Leshy who lacked the cohesion to understand her idea or just didn’t care. Just as she would push him off Kalamar would be there to give him back the space she so hardly fought to take. Running and dodging where he was meant to stay and deliver. After the third tap of the scythe against the axe she realized she was not just outmatched but she was also very much alone. It didn’t matter what she did, what tactic she implored. All it did was to give her a fool's hope that would be dashed into pieces when put into practice. Her tactics were like the speeches she delivered in court, ignored without the input of their sibling who still hadn’t joined them. Before the fourth tap she saw her brother, this time fully. His brother stood above the three, like the dark God that was to take her to his realm from all those years ago. For one terrible moment she realized, she was going to die. Maybe not a liar like she thought but dead nonetheless for his brother was death, the killer of Gods fore and now. At the fifth tap that she sounded with the drop of her knee she could see. She saw the still figure of Shamura who watched the slaughter. She saw the sibling that brought them here, to the place where his kind brother became the nightmare from her long lost nightmares. The one that watched with pity as they were cut down. The one that still looked from above as their brother breathed death against them. She saw her enemy. She saw the real traitor. There was no sixth tap, it was more of a clang that reverbated across the halls of the temple. The clang that came to be by her axe which saw the claw of Shamura. At that moment as all of her family looked at her, she knew she was dead. For a moment silence and in the next ‘’Traitors’’ came the hiss of Shamura, then came her claw that with grace that could only be matched by their second eldest. Proven with his scythe came between her and the cold claw of their eldest. She didn’t know what compelled her to block the hit that came from Kalamar that was meant for Narinder. She didn’t know and would most likely never know, but at the moment she couldn’t think much about that. So they continued, a froglet and a kitten against three dark Gods. Scythe and axe matching claw, sword and hammer. It was a dance now, one that somehow felt comforting as she sliced the ears of their cowardly brother. It felt like the ones they shared when it was just the two of them when the traitor had gone to tend to their court. When the cold of the night and the mist of the temple reminded her of the day she met the monster that almost made her its prey. So when he took the eyes of Leshy she couldn’t help but tap, tap, tap, tap. Then came tap, tap, tap, tap from his scythe to the ground as they were pushed back by the enraged Master of War, who now only saw red as their two siblings met the stone of the temple. Slice to cut, out came the ichor that danced in the air. For a moment she had a lip barring no scar that sang away those awful nights with his brother’s kind eyes watching. Now scarred they were, with a split that came from the claws of the traitor. The kind eyes looked at her once more as she lost her footing. Shining with determination she wished she could match before the three were now two as the traitor took more off of them. She found herself on the ground as his brother found himself pushed to the ground as the traitor took him apart, slice after slice as they cursed him. His weapon broken and away where he could not reach. For as many things she knew she didn’t know many yet. But she knew one thing, the traitor had to meet their end. She didn’t know how she matched the grace of the spider for that moment, but for a moment she truly felt like she danced maybe for the first time with Shamura before she met the cold claws once more. This time she would gain not a scar but lose a tooth and maybe two. But there came no more slice nor cut for the Traitor met his end with the sharper claws of their brother. With the same claws that gently took her up from the pond to a home, he took apart the brow that hid many and the mind that was behind this terribleness. Tap, tap, tap, tap. She heard, against her palm as she lay. She held his gaze as her four met the last two eyes of a cat clad in white and much red, with a mouth full of kind razor sharp teeth that gave her a smile. She closed her eyes as she heard ‘’Tap, tap, tap, tap froglet of mine’’ His hand found her lip as she felt his soothing cold claws, healing the damage of the traitor. ‘’Tap, tap, tap, tap cry not for I am here. Forever and more, with you.’’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/112140313

Little Leaf

Alright, this is a chapter from my fic ‘The Five Traitors’, the first one in fact. It is about what would have happened if one of the siblings joined Narinder’s rebellion, what would have led them to it and what would come out of it.

I will post this here and the rest when I am done with them all. But I will also add a link to the Ao3 down there if you all wanna read it there instead.

I hope you all enjoy this one (:

His temple was silent. Only wind spoke through it for there were none within. All his once whimsical critters waited outside, orderly assembled and ready, all awaiting their Lord. He tried to laugh, something he hadn’t done in a while, at the irony of it all. He was to lead and order an army. He, Lord of Chaos, was to order his army to fight alongside that of his siblings. An army he had assembled at the order’s of his sibling. However he couldn’t, not even a mirthless chuckle punch through the bottomless perfect melancholy.

No, no he just sat there. A silent lord for a silent temple, neither which were ever so before. Not before their eldest came to him and the rest of his siblings, telling them of the supposed treachery of their brother. Not before they gave the order to form an army to bring him to justice. Not before they took command of each of their cults to train and supply them, to mold them into the same zealots they bred. not before they brought order to his chaos.

Treachery, he thought. He was thinking the way his soon to be punished brother was thinking. He was asking questions where he was to obey, he was trying to reason where he was supposed to show fealty, he was showing chaos where he needed to prove his order. To betray to self to conform.

He ran his fingers through his face, avoiding his eyes from the sharpness of his claws as he drew in a breath. It was the smell of the pines, the ancient stone and the smell of ichor that ran through his eyes that greeted him.

‘’That explains the wet hands’’ he murmured to himself, as he looked down on his hand to see his tear soaked hand. All crimson like the blood of his followers but with an undeniable dark tinge that betrayed its true nature.

He ran his thumb over the rest of his fingers as he felt the sticky liquid of the holy void. As the droplets fell to the stone of his temple, there came new life. Blades of grass with many odd flowers, all in the colours of the stars birthed them all amidst the lifeless stone. But Just as they came to be, they died. All returning back to his brother's domain.

To oblivion, Narinder’s domain. He smiled as he thought of him, the one they were to march to meet in battle today. His smile fell just as quickly as he remembered where he stood in this conflict, this schism. He would be in the ranks of his sister Heket, the Lady of Famine; his brother Kalamar, the Lord of Disease; his sibling Shamura, the Master of War.

All four leaders of the Old Faith would march against their brother Narinder, Lord of Death.

He was to march together with the one who would ridicule him for his very nature, chastise him for the very thing he was gifted to this world to do. The one who would cast all blame for the things she failed to realize in this world as uncertain. The one whose logic would shatter at the mere mention of his chaos.

He was to march alongside a coward. One who he knew for certain would stab them all in the back if they were to fail in the upcoming madness. He who would cast disease amidst them all if it would give him one more moment to escape his fate.

He was to march alongside a sibling he barely knew. One who he had only met a few times before they were taken by their duty, away from him. Sibling who has accused their brother of treachery on a mere premonition, one that rested on an old mind that had been rotting for a milenia. The one who has brought ugly order to his beautiful domain of chaos. The one that has tried  to replace his very nature with their own.

He was to march against his brother. The one that had been by his side since his coming to this earth. The one that has teached him all he knew and all that he wished to know till this very moment. The one that cradled him to his chest in the nights where he found no respite amidst the order of the world. The one he seeked mere days ago, to see if they still carried the same faith for each other deep within them. The one that indeed has, proven by his cold but yet warm embrace that carried no pulse but a true heart that sang with his own. In the days before this one, where he stood in his temple as a brother rather than an enemy as he showed him the true beauty of his nature. No ridicule for what he is, no fear for what he was and no portent for what he will be.

He remembered his erratic heart matching his dead one, as they embraced as if he didn’t know they were to attack his domain soon. He held no contempt for him even then. Just acceptance, as was expected from the kind guide to the afterlife, the shepherd of beyond.

Sounds of water splashing on the hallowed ground shook him away from these holy heretical thoughts. ‘Was that the rain?’ he thought as he looked down on the ground through a haze to see more flowers. He was lucky that his cloak was black he thought as he wiped away the ichor off his face.

He got up, standing tall amidst the silent temple he no longer recognized. Amidst soldiers that were no longer his whimsical cohort. Amidst the sanctified gates of his brother's temple. Amidst the quartet of traitors he dared not call siblings.

Shamura spoke first ‘’Narinder, please understand wh-’’ They were cut by a laugh that reverberated across the defiled temple of his brother. Narinder shook his head as he brought his hand to his face to run it across.

He looked back slowly as his hand went back limb to his side ‘’Please spare us all that, we all know how this is going to go’’ Heket took a step forward with her axe firmly within their hands. He looked at her out of curiosity, to see if she held anything other than contempt. He was given but a moment too be disappointed as Shamura stopped her in her tracks with just one claw.

Shamura wore a tired face, one laced with guilt and shame. He wanted to laugh at that but just like before he couldn’t find enough humor in that. They were the one who has driven them into this, to this very moment. Yet they stood there ashamed, he would ask why if they were so pained could they have just not brought them here?

His hands tightened on the helm of his warhammer as he tried to contain the indignity within his capricious heart. He felt the traitorous tears try to force their way off all five of his eyes, but no. No, he would not shed a single one.

The cry of war took his mind away from his thoughts as the Queen of Anura broke away from the grasp of her sibling’s claw. Away to war she rose, her axe swung over Narinder who swatted it away. Blow for blow they came to each other, strike to strike they tried to best one another. Witnessing the call of battle he tried to move but he couldn’t, he stood there with his hammer still in his hands as both his siblings tried to rip each other to pieces.

Then came the cry of Kallamar who joined the fray. adding his own to the fight that saw siblings spill the blood of one another. With much skill he still swung his swords, each cutting fabric and nothing more as he tried and failed to match their brother’s grace. He tried to look away from the awe inspiring battle that was unfolding in front of him. He couldn’t bear it for he knew, he knew the two would lose.

He looked away to the one hope they still held, to the old spider. He looked at them with scorn he had not felt before, he wanted to shout at them to ask them is this what they have wanted. But more so he wanted them to join so their siblings at least stood a chance against the whirlwind of destruction their brother had always been.

But he was disappointed yet again, for they stood still. As the carnage took place all around they stood still as the pillars of stone around. Looking at the fight with cold dead pity. He felt his claws puncture his hands as he clutched his hammer more firm as he marched into the fray too.

He swung his hammer, not to his brother nor to his siblings, but to all of them at once. For he was chaos, he bore no allegiance that could last with obedience alone. He struck the earth where Heket stood for he was chaos, he cared not for safe logic. He casted bolts of lighting almost at random that were dodged by Kallamar for he was chaos, for he was untamable.

All became a haze as the fight grew to an odd free for all, the chaos in which he thrived. Alliances were formed; where one struck, where the other deflected just to switch. Where one who came to kill, fought alongside the one they came to kill. Where one protected just to stab in the back, where one howled in rage just to bellow a laughter, where all blended together with the ichor of all. All in the colours of the night sky, as they danced together, against; for, spite; with, without one another.

Through each strike he stood true however, he never stayed with an ‘ally’ for long. Always switching at a whim, one moment he saw the teary eyes of Kallamar to then just see the enraged snarl of Heket. Then at the last moment he saw Narinder fighting with a grace he had never seen from another being, be they God or mortal. In that moment he understood, as they carved the ears off of Kallamar, as they tore his sister’s throat. Only he and himself were true to themselves, not to the faith or to their siblings but to themselves. Only he and Narinder stood true as they pummeled and were pelted, striked as they were slashed, dodge as they blocked. He as the harbinger of chaos and his brother as the reaper of souls. True Gods of their domain, not just some bishop to a rigid Faith made by a coward.

Here he stood, facing his brother as the two of his siblings stayed imobile on the ground, both spilling their holy ichor to the temple meant for the true lord of death. He stared down his ally, his enemy, his Lord and his servant. He saw his smile as he held onto his scythe, his smile bloomed into a laugh that warmed him from within.

As he stood with his broken arm, no doubt a gift he himself had given him just a moment ago. He beckoned him with open arms, one lowered slightly from the pain no doubt. He moved to meet him even with his slashed leg, leaking rot and ichor, a gift in kind given to him by his dearest.

It was cold and silent, his fur covered in ichor that smelled of disease, rot and much much more. His heart was quiet but it felt like it beat with fervor they both held for each other, he smiled into his fur as his hands moved to the back of his head. Each of his bony fingers combed against his leaves. There was no need for words as his deep purr talked where words would have failed. He was accepted, just as he accepted him. Chaos and Death held each other as Gods amidst bled.

It was not to last, as it was the nature of both chaos and death. A cry of war came from its master, one that bellowed across the temple, reverberated across the halls just to echo right back at them.

Both took their spots as the dance began again. They were met with grace that made Narinder look like a beetle amidst butterflies. They danced and danced, two beetles trying to outfly a butterfly as it carved them apart. This butterfly wore a mask of anger and indignation however, one that did a poor job of masking their anguish. This butterfly called them ‘traitors’ and ‘heretics’ but they themselves were a traitor to their very nature, a reluctant warrior that carried the crown of war.

They were tired, they were injured, they were losing. It was just a simple fact really, they were going to lose. Narinder blocked a strike just to get cut by the other, his ichor wetting the holy stone. He slashed in return, for it to not bother their sibling. It was like a dance between a blooming rose and a butterfly; so futile, so meaningless, so chaotic and so, so beautiful.

In the end he fell to his knees, and as he watched their sibling sob as they reddied their claws to make their brother meet their end. He could only chuckle. It was not painful, not really. Their sibling’s claws tore his eyes, all two perfect orderly slashes that cut through his eyes meant to gut their brother. He didn’t know how he ran that fast, or how he got up from the ground with his slashed legs. But he did know what he saw in his brother's eyes as he saw him taking the hit for him. Anger and much anguish.

Opposed to their sibling's cut, Narinder’s cuts were haphazard. Many smaller ones riddled their now perished sibling’s body. He kept on cutting it, cursing it as he continued his onslaught.

For eternity it felt like it continued, slash after slash but eventually he returned to him, Like he always would. Cradling his body to their own, his cold fur soothing the pain as he truly laughed for the first time in a long time at the irony of the God of Death healing him. Taking him away further from his own domain as he whispered ‘'I am here little leaf’' soft lips found their way to his forehead as he continued ‘'I am with you’'

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/112140313

Didn’t Matter

Hello there, firstly I am trying something new on Tumblr. I wanna see how these short stories will do here. I am kind of new to these things so sorry if I am going against etiquette in some way. Anyhow I was meaning to talk about my headcanons and write them here but I thought giving an account of them through a story was a bit more entertaining and much more fulfilling. I hope you all enjoy this, if you all do I might continue it. also the link to the AO3 should be down there.

Warnings: Blood, Violence

WC: 1407

Rating: T+

It was not a quiet day. Far from it in fact as the sounds of battle reverberated across the temple I called my own.

Clashing steel against one another as they forced their way into his temple. Singing praises to my siblings. They poured into our home like thunderous rain, washing away the defenses set by my own flock. They showed no mercy as they ran them through, but as they moved forwards they noticed the death they gave was not the end for their would be victims.

One by one, all those they thought slaughtered rose from their supposed final slumber. To attack there would be killers. Some cried, some laughed maybe at the irony or just out of madness. But it didn’t matter.

Even as they got slaughtered back they pushed their way forwards with unending numbers on their side. An unceasing tide pushing against the shores of the restless dead. Eventually they came, the siblings I once called beloved. What a sight they were. Leshy breaking the very earth as he swung his hammer, Kallamar as he tore through the lines with his blades, Heket as she chopped my followers to bits. The only one standing unbloodied was Shamura, they stood clean amidst the carnage. If one were to ask me what was the oddest sight amidst this accursed day, I would tell them it was her. They were the most unusual. Not the sibling coming to slaughter one another nor the followers of the same faith tearing each other apart as they let their steel talk rather than the preachers. They stood as a Goddess of war, unbloodied amidst a carnage such as this. Even as my followers flung themselves at the four they stood unimpeded. Whatever opposition they had offered didn't matter. The four entered the throne room unopposed in the end, but none of their followers followed. Maybe it was because of orders or perhaps by genuine fear as they saw me in my fullest. 

I sat upon the throne with my scythe to my side. I wore no armor as I knew for beings such as us, no armor could stop our blows. No. I stood with only robes as white as snow. There were no words exchanged for what felt like eons. Eventually I spoke ‘’So, what has brought my dear siblings to my domain?’’ Even as I spoke I felt anger course through me. Trying to keep calm I drummed my hand against the throne. I was answered with silence as loud as the battle still waged behind. None met my eyes, not the proud Heket nor the coward Kallamar, other than Shamura. They gazed upon me as if they were judging me. What a funny little concept. They spoke after a sigh ‘’Narinder, Lord of Death, Traitor of the Old Faith, we have come to stop you for your Her-’’ 

I cut them off before they could speak more nonsense ‘’You think me as a traitor? a heretic even?’’ a scoff escaped me ‘’I am neither, my deluded sibling. Has your age finally gotten to you? Perhaps you have become maddened in your search for knowledge?’’ I got off the throne and as I did I could see my siblings take up arms once more, their limbs tightening against their weapons. I did not. I had my scythe still against my back.

I paced across the room as I continued ‘’You have come upon my realm, you have slaughtered my devout followers, you have insulted me with your baseless accusations’’ At last I stopped meeting Shamura’s eyes ‘’And you dare suggest I am the traitor?’’ I saw the way their face fell further as they closed their eyes, breathing once more they spoke ‘’I know the fate you wish to befall upon us Narinder. I saw it all, I saw your plans for us all, for the ones loyal to the Old Faith.’’ I laughed as they finished, what little faith for a God I thought. To believe some vision they have had over their own brother. To judge them based on something as simple as divination. I wanted to cry at that moment, to ask why, to demand why she would ever judge me on something that would never come to pass. I wanted to strangle her as I asked her what ill have I ever done to warrant the ostracization, the ceremonies I was excluded from, the unwillingness to hear my pleas for audience, the tears I shed not knowing why my cult had to be disbanded. But it didn’t matter. My laugh ended abruptly as I took up arms. My scythe by my side. Leshy was first. My brother was a being of chaos. His hammer reflected this well. He swung wildly as he tried to squash me down, but he held back. I could see it in his eyes as he tried to incapacitate me rather than kill me. It was a mercy that caused him much as I jumped over one of his blows to land upon the hammer. There was a pang in my heart as I clawed his eyes out, one swing and no more would the Leshy of Darkwood see. Next was Kalamar. He surprised me as he dodged my attacks. Weaving and countering all I could throw at him, but even as Heket helped him defend, he couldn’t keep up with me. I was stronger, faster, better, I was better. I saw his ears twitch as I got the upper hand on him, his brother always had his ears twitch when he was nervous. As of late it was whenever I was close to him, fluttering around as if I was an enemy, a beast, a monster. I swung, and no more did his ears offend me. Kallamar of Anchordeep would hear no more. A shrill voice came when Kallamar hit the ground weeping. and an ax flew for my throat, just to be caught by my scythe. Heket was a challenge. A challenge to be around, a challenge to be a friend to, a challenge not to love. She was strong, confident, smart, annoying, nagging and criticizing. Her words cut deep, deeper than the blow I almost received as I ducked just in time. It was time she stopped. a gurgle sounded from the ground as I silenced her forevermore. Heket of Anura would speak no more.

As we stood face to face with her, my sibling, my caretaker, the one I loved more than all, the one that took away my beloved cult, relegated me to a misbegotten legend, changed the very sermons so none could remember me. My first sibling now faced me with a withered look, their eyes not meeting mine. I could almost believe myself as I thought they wept. Only one word broke my silence ‘’Why?’’ We fought, steel against claw, magic against curse, brother against sister, traitor against traitor. I couldn’t match them, they were stronger, faster, better, they were better. But even as we fought, I could see their faith waning. Their blows softening, their curses now aimless, their eyes full of shame. In the end though, it didn’t matter. I struck their head, tearing apart the mind that thought me as a traitor. Shamura of Silk Cradle would think no more. As for me, well my chest wasn’t left untouched as my guts bursted out. 

I hit the ground, in the pool of my siblings blood as well as mine.I heard the chanting raise from all around me as I lay. I wept then and there. I would deny it, but it is true, I did. I wept as the chains shot out from the portal to the limbo and took me by the limbs. The searing heat of them only a mild pinprick in comparison to the pain of betrayal I felt. 

I raked my arms upon the ground as I tried to claw myself away from the void I was being dragged to. I gave all my might even as they got torn apart. But it didn’t matter. As I was dragged off to my fate I saw Shamura. They spoke even through their wound ‘’five becomes four becomes three becomes two becomes one becomes nothing’’

I felt a chuckle raise its way out as I was swallowed by the blinding white. All their efforts, all  their spilled blood, all their sacrifice. 

It didn’t matter. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43839834/chapters/110230173

The look you give to your siblings when the previously very much dead sheep, comes back to life and is off for your blood and possibly all your loot.

Pov: You did something she did not aprove.

The true horseman of the apocalypse, or perhaps I should say ostrichman of the apocalypse?

I really love the Bishops in cult of the lamb. At the start I didn't (I even called Kallamar "Pussy mouth" when i encounterd him in his area) SO since the 4 are kinda the horseriders, they need horses.  My boyfriend said they should have those inflatable emu outfits, were your legs are the emus legs. So yeah, terrorfying... I will draw more of them.

The Four Bishops

Definitely a challenge to draw these fellas (except Leshy) but I'm glad I finally did

Does this mean Heket canonically likes nuts, including peanuts or a peanut allergy?

The backgrounds usually show something correlated to the Bishops so i got confused when i saw this. Leshy has flowers.

Kallamar has shells and dead fish.

Shamura has abandoned giant weapons.

Even in other parts of Anura, there are different kinds of mushrooms. So what do the peanuts have to do with her? Does she love or hate them? Does she have an allergy that manifested in the background because of her death? is it an inside joke or something?

Just one more! Shamura, you’re next!