Interlude: The Son
The figure wore chain as the night wore black, his steps heavy with the burden assigned upon him. He approached the river, green with death. For a moment he paused, thinking upon his duty, who bestowed such upon him, and how little power he truly possessed to complete it. He stepped into the river, feeling how cool it was against his legs, and waded through the river, and after a hundred or so steps, he climbed up the bank and found the fields of Damnation, a greyed gold, spanning across the entire horizon. He inhaled deeply, taking in the crisp air, almost smelling the ash.
He didn’t count the tens of thousands of steps as he made he way through the region, finding another river, before he followed it towards the nearby mountain range, that which had been carved out of grief and darkness. As he approached the summit of the mountain, a figure adorned in shadow greeted him, standing tall and proud, still as a statue. The oppressive glare burdened his shoulder greater, and though he held a similar title of its master, the figure would have found himself struggling to face the creature with his own curved blade, formed from raw divinity.
He reached up to place his open hand upon his heart, owing respect to another whom held a similar title as his own, and its master. The shadow stepped aside, allowing him to step through, towards the large garden, which greeted him with thousands upon thousands of different flowers, no two flowers the same. He followed along the path, which wound around the mountain top, the gentle breeze flowing through him, the warmth of the sun above, closer to an orange than it was yellow.
He did not stop and smell the roses, instead approaching the back of the throne, which was made of jagged bones. He stopped an appropriate distance away from the throne, standing at attention, like a soldier waiting for his commands.
“Do you remember your father?” the boy asked, still turned away from the armoured figure behind him.
“My father herded goats,” Zaladhin replied. “He bred many great goats, those which were gifted to the guards of our town.”
“I have vague memories of my mother,” Sozain said, opening his eyes, taking in the sight of the flowers, the memories of these flowers almost taking his vision. “I was too young to remember that time. I spent much of my time with Elaveil, she watched over me as I grew. Noor, he often took mother’s attention away, so I’m told, and as I grew, I spent more and more time with my siblings. Noor would often play with me, and so would Klaus. I remember all my siblings, save for one. As I try to recall him, I find a tension upon my forehead, but it is not the same for when I try and recall father. When I recall father, I can recall only death. Death. An all consuming death. Then, a warmth. A warmth that is so strange to me, but it eases my heart. It must be that feeling, I am certain. The warmth of my father’s affection.”
“I have come to request their souls,” Zaladhin said. “You have domain over those of the Iyr, those who die within its land. I have domain over the souls of all others.”
“I refuse,” Sozain replied simply.
Zaladhin remained silent for a long while. Even until that point, Sozain had yet to turn to face him. However, what could he do? If it were not for Sozain, Zaladhin would have been one of the many workers within the field of Damnation, rather than the Lord of Souls.
The third figure approached, following along the winding path, before stopping before the pair, the heavily armoured God of Souls, and the boy upon the throne, the God of Death. He dropped the helmet of the shadow who stood watch over the garden.
“I have come to maintain Order,” the Lord of Order said. “You must surr-,”
Sozain lifted a hand, dismissing the Lord’s words, his throne lifting above the ground. “This garden is my most precious place. I do not wish to ruin it.”
“I have not come to fight,” the Lord of Order stated.
The boy floated away upon his throne, he who was the youngest child of the Goddess of Life, showing no respect to the Lord of Order, a Major Divine who held no relation to them, as far as the Major Divine knew.
“My deepest apologies,” Sozain said, his eyes glancing aside towards the Lord of Souls he had personally forced into the pantheon during the Demonic Devastation.
Zaladhin remained silent for a moment, unsure if he was able to accept the burden of the Lord of Death’s apology. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”
Once Zaladhin left, surely uncertain of whether he had offended the Lord of Death, the orb of blackness began to crack as beams of light broke through, and a single blade pierced through the orb, exploding the black orb as the Lord of Order revealed himself, adorned in the whitest of whites and the lightest of lights. There was a darkness the Lord of Order carried upon him as he wielded his blade of white, though it was unseen, within the heart and mind of the Lord.
“Now that he is gone, we may begin,” Sozain said, raising a finger, wrapping a single black thread around the Lord of Order’s hands, and the hilt of his blade, feeling the struggle of the Major Divine who was not a sibling of his. “If you wish to surrender, just drop your sword.”
The Lord of Order flexed, trying to force apart the thread that had wrapped around his hands and the hilt of his blade, for even if he dropped his blade, it would not fall to the earth, not that he had any intentions of surrendering. He would need to remind the boy just who and what he was.
Except, Sozain had no intentions of allowing the Lord of Order to drop his blade, not that he would, thankfully. He flung the Lord of Order through the air, slamming him between the mountains, while beams of light tried to pierce through his barrier, which blocked out even the tiniest of needles of light.
“I do not care that you are not one of my siblings, I allowed you to complete your tasks, as were assigned to you by forces I could not dare to recall,” the Lord of Death said, keeping much of his annoyance short, not wishing to waste his breath for this fool. “How dare you? How dare you come to my domain, and kill one of the precious children I raised. Since you are so ignorant, I will show it to you, a father’s rage.”
For a moment, Sozain’s heart skipped a beat, as the heat spread through him like wildfire, pouring through the depths of his body. During which, he needed to shut himself to the world for a short moment, a moment which was far too long, and would cause great trouble for his sister, and his protege.
He could not even accept the prayer of a grieving father.
The moment was felt throughout Damnation, throughout the Celestial Realms, and even the realms connected to it, in one way or another.
The Lord of Chaos, bit into an apple, pausing for a moment as he felt the pulse. ‘Yoho? There’s fun I’m missing?’ Yet, he could feel the cold sweat upon the back of his head. ‘”Ah, I’ll go save you later?”
While the Lord of Chaos plotted to annoy the Lord of Order, Lady Elaveil, who was expecting her niece any time now, paused. It had been so long since she had felt such a rage, an emotion her youngest brother had sworn off in order to complete his role. She stood from the table she had prepared, feeling the duty of keeping anyone from panicking, which would surely fuel the Lord of Chaos, and strode towards the throne.
As she sat upon it, she felt the surge in her power, reaching dangerous levels, but she slammed her staff onto the ground beside her, her scales balancing. If her youngest brother had allowed such a moment to pass, it must have meant that someone had made the mistake of killing one of the children her brother had raised, meaning the Lord of Order had come to cause trouble about a particular matter.
She could only hope the Lord of Time would be willing to assist her in this matter, not that she had the time to message him. Hopefully he would be of sane mind enough, or someone else, other than Fae or Klaus had gone to speak with him, though, knowing just how much Chaos had seeped into the world, she was certain her sibling, or brother, had gone to meet with him.
You really shouldn't have killed his children.