Mercy

Rimanqu sped across the darkened plain, Anak and Tzipora clinging tightly to his back. They had long noticed the beam of light in the distance, and were rushing to reach Ischuros. It was sure to be something serious, and both worried for their families. Anak was especially worried for Eva, whom he had mostly known as a weak, bed-ridden woman, in spite of the days he'd spent with her more energetic and healthy self before leaving.

Suddenly, Anak felt Triac's voice reverberating from within. 'Stop here, Anak.'

Anak pulled at Rimanqu's antlers, signaling for him to stop. Tzipora patted the creatures side to reassure him, before it obeyed. "What is it? Danger?" Anak inquired cautiously.

'We'll have company soon. We should wait.' Triac instructed. Anak set his gaze towards the distance, scanning all around for any living creature. Aside from the occasional burrowing beast that had been intermittently popping up along the journey, he saw no one. 'Look above.' Triac advised bemusedly.

As Anak shifted his gaze upward, he noticed a dark speck rocketing their way. "Someone who can fly? Is it Azazel?" Anak's voice slightly trembled, partially in anger, partially with anticipation. He couldn't wait to show the star that begat him how misguided he was regarding Anak's purpose.

'Not quite. You will see.' Triac left it at that, and so they waited. The speck became a blob, and then a silhouette. Drawing close, they could finally make out his features. The green chiseled jaw with a slight dark beard, the tall, straight posture, and plain white robes came together, revealing the form of a handsome walking corpse. Rather, in this case, he was flying, and flying at a breakneck pace at that.

"Oh..." Tzipora muttered involuntarily, averting her eyes before turning them back with fascination.

"What's the matter?" Anak asked, thinking she might be sickened by the corpse-like appearance of the entity walking their way.

"He's- gorgeous." Tzipora breathed out, blushing. Her gaze was cloudy as she looked at the charming corpse.

"What do you mean gorgeous?" Anak reared back in shock, nearly falling from his perch on the vulpetir that had once been the subject of a very similar conversation.

"Why thank you, young lady." With a charming smile and a bell-toned voice, the corpse addressed Tzipora as he came near, "I am Rygald, god of spirits and undead. There's no reason to fear." His last words were aimed at Anak.

"God?" Anak snorted with derision, "That's rather presumptuous." He didn't even meet Rygald's gaze, turning his head.

Rygald simply nodded, "Given who accompanies you, it's only natural you feel this way. He's actually why I'm here."

'Anak,' Triac's voice once again sounded from within him, as always inaudible to the rest. 'Use this opportunity for experience. Let me show you what it's like to serve as my mouthpiece, and speak my words. This is how it will be before the king.'

Anak nodded, seemingly to himself, and inhaled and exhaled deeply. As he focused on Triac's presence, a rush of turbulent energies flooded his consciousness. The hairs on his arm raised up, as goosebumps riddled his flesh. Anak straightened his posture up high, peering down on Rygald like a judge on his pedestal. Unbidden, words flowed from his lips, "So you know who is with me, yet dare show your face. Bold, indeed. Will you at last open up, Silent One?"

Rygald shuddered at the address, and dropped to one knee. "Does He speak through you now?" he asked shakily.

"I am his mouthpiece for this age." Anak answered sagely, before continuing, "Do you think him ignorant of the circumstances? He knows your comrades ambitions. Do not think yourself blameless in this, either, Rygald."

Rygald slammed his brow to the dirt, as he pleaded, "I know my wrongs! Please, I will pay and suffer for them as nature demands, but first..." He raised his head with teary eyes. "Please, please free my comrades from the Demon King's dominion. I will do whatever you ask in exchange. Just show them mercy."

From a distance, Lisma watched behind the clouds. "Fool, mind your own business." She muttered frustratedly, only annoyed at his efforts. Knowing for the most part what her brother sought, Lisma flew back to Osk to report. She steeled her nerves, knowing this may be what finally makes Osk relent, letting her kill her most hated companion, her brother, Rygald.

Back below, Anak declared with a solemn voice, "You are not without hope, Rygald. He sees your heart too, god of spirits. You too, are part of His creation. You are not without a place. Your comrades, though..." Anak frowned, looking at this god with pity. "They are already bound. The best you could do for them would be to cut this ritual short, before, in their newfound darkness, they gain a power beyond their station."

"Is that really all?" Rygald desperately clung onto a last vestige of hope.

"Until the time after Time, they will bow before the Dark One." Anak confirmed with Triac's words.

Rygald's head dipped in sorrow, his long hair touching the dirt as he wept. "I will do what I can then." He rose to his feet, and levitated in the air. He looked to Tzipora, "Thank you, for your compliment. It means a lot when humans aren't repulsed by me." With these words, Rygald sped back in the direction of the tower, this time determined to bring it crumbling to the ground.

Tzipora stared after the rapidly flying god sorrowfully. "He seemed okay." She whispered to Anak.

"Yeah, I thought so too. But, I got the sense these gods are under a certain set of rules." Anak sympathized. "He'll be fine though. Triac told me himself, he will receive for himself the mercy he sought for his comrades. Through his coming actions, he will earn it."

Tzipora smiled briefly, before looking back at the pillar of light. "What do we do?" She asked with concern.

"We hurry." Anak kicked Rimanqu's sides, making the vulpetir jump forward into a gallop. Tzipora held tightly onto her man's waist as they raced in the direction of Ischuros, kicking up dust behind them.

...

Lisma had appeared before Osk suddenly, having used her fastest speed to return before Rygald could even start to head back. Now, after explaining the circumstances, and requesting permission to kill Rygald, Lisma waited while Osk thought it over.

Finally, removing his fingers from his chin, Osk gave an order, "Bring a message to the priests in King Gel-ad's court. Tell them to prepare for the return of the king's worst enemy. They will surely know to whom we refer. As for Rygald, I will wait and see what he does before giving the kill order. If I deem it necessary, the task will fall to you, per your request."

"You can't be serious!" Lisma cried out in dismay, "If you're so certain as to have a kill order on stand-by, you're better off striking before he's ready."

Osk gave her words due conseration. She held domains in both wisdom and war after all, it would be foolish to disregard her. Finally he amended his order, "Find Shora, send her to the king. You wait here. If Rygald approaches the tower or the light, kill him." He changed the open ended standby order into a definitive kill condition.

Lisma nodded in satisfaction. "I'll tell Shora immediately." She jauntily skipped down to the ground below, looking for her fellow goddess of the pantheon. "Shora!" she called out, her joy seeping into her tone. Urmu's regiment surrounding the base of the tower couldnt help but look at Lisma with longing as her beautiful, joyous voice echoed. However, when Shora failed to answer, she grew impatient. "Shora! Where are you, you blasted toad!"

Hearing no response even to her incendiary remarks, Lisma muttered to herself. "She must've gone inside." Muttering complaints the whole way as she rubbed her chilled limbs, she walked to the entrance doors of the tower. Lisma thrust them open with a flourish, stepping inside, but what she saw within made her freeze in her tracks. Piles of bloodless flesh lay strewn about the room, the remnants of the dead students. Those that still lived were on their faces or backs, no longer reciting the verses. They were rendered completely unconscious.

The central pillar of light shook at the base, as haunting, ghastly voices sang out their vengeful song in thunderous reverie. The base of the pillar was black, and oozing a sticky, odorous substance that ate away at the floor.

"Shora! Horchal! What is this?!" Lisma cried out in horror. She couldn't have possibly imagined this scene before her eyes taking place when they first started.

Shora descended in her toady form, suppressing her inner freeze. "Lisma, dearest comrade, you and Osk should better understand than I ever did. You made this bargain, after all." She fixed an accusatory glare at the goddess of luck, wisdom, and war.

"This isn't Azazel's doing?" Lisma was shaken.

Shora shook her head, and answered concisely, something she was getting better at more and more lately. "No. It was yours."