One Moo'r Plow

After the thunder came quiet. The crushing blanket of hopelessness and despair that enveloped Valencia’s form. Even now she was beyond their notice, subject only to their scorn.

No longer. I followed as she rose and strode across the courtyard, back towards the field of bodies that lay in the rubble. From a distance, I observed as the dreadknight dragged forth the Archon’s shattered corpse and hauled it towards where the champion lay.

If ever I had known a bad omen, it returned hundrefold now. Nausea pounded throughout me, compounded by every step she took. Someone, something, watched us now. Eyes gazed from somewhere underneath me, and I looked to see only the ground.

Gazes beyond number stared at what was to happen, even though I physically saw none. Deep within, some primal instinct shivered and knew.

This was wrong. Not of the Gods Above.

Yet I did not move to stop her. Not of paralysis of the body or fear of the mind. Of my own will I stood and witnessed what was to come.

This was Valencia’s will. Her decision to make, right or wrong. I would not be the one to take it from her. To deny her this when she had lost all else. I questioned this, yes. How truly right it was to further humor these foreign deities that toyed with her soul, yet I took not one step to interfere.

Whatever came next was of her own volition.

There was no great ritual, no altar prepared. Valencia extended a clawed hand above either corpse as she stood between them. Chains lashed from her hands and into the dead bodies, darkness piercing already rent chests. For a moment, they dangled and swayed, shackles of void that slithered round.

Silent and devoid of light, they hung loose, then snapped taut without warning. Now they struggled, Valencia’s arms being dragged down as she pulled against whatever was within. A bright, clear shimmer was extracted from either corpse, an ethereal wisp dragged into existence by the dreadknight’s chains. I could see strings that fought to keep it attached to the body, even though its bonds were already half-faded.

This was a soul, I knew. The intangible matter that made a person. That ensured their identity. A piece of the universe that, even if the fleshen vessel died, would remain and be reforged anew.

Valencia grasped a wisp in either hand and held them high. The souls of the Godtouched squirmed in her grasp, bound even in death.

Thunder volleyed above as the heavens spoke their anger. But only from below did gazes come. Now she stood between worlds, the warnings of the Gods Above unheeded.

No, that was wrong, I realized. Valencia heard and recognized them. Yet now vengeance consumed her and she turned her back upon those that had done the same unto her.

No words were spoken as she held the souls aloft, then clamped her hands down and began to squeeze. There came a wave of despair and fear from either one, radiating outwards as the dreadknight’s fists crushed them within her grasp. Light pulsed as they fought her grasp, seeking some salvation from this end.

None came.

A tinkle rang through the air as they were shattered, and light oozed forth. For a single moment they blazed brilliantly against the darkness that was Valencia, and then their light was snuffed out forever. In their place rose dark, shadow flame, engulfing Valencia’s hands and forearms.

Braids of fire streaked around her, dozens of chains being spawned that crawled with this flame. They snaked from her in all directions, jumping from corpse to corpse.

And the pyre burned. A dozen, then a hundred, then a thousand souls were fed to this flame, devoured by whatever being had sent it. Ethereal fires blazed all around me, without heat or light. They fed on a substance other than flesh and air. Soul after soul was snuffed out and erased, all for Valencia’s hatred.

The flames invoked terror. Called forth grief. Howled with wild abandon. I stood and witnessed them burn, made myself to watch even as I wanted to turn away. Emotions flooded me, yet I forced myself not to move. I would witness this, and so I did. In the center of it all stood Valencia, her hands held high as she commanded the flames.

Nothing came from below. The eyes watched, and little else.

Would it be that the same could be said of Above.

Thunder and anger roiled across a now-clouded sky. Red-hot lightning danced between the clouds, as light and flame swirled on high.

The Gods Above showed now their anger. The sky was cleaved open, and light flooded the darkness that had overtaken Greysong Keep. The glare blinded me, snuffed out the fires and illuminated what descended down from the clouds.

There was nothing angelic about this figure. It evoked power. Authority. Judgement. Punishment. Woe. A bipedal form with wings of steel and armor of glory. Light blinded me as I attempted to gaze on its features, and finally, I was forced to look away.

Eyes dry, I blinked furiously and stumbled back, realizing how long I had stood here as witness. Exhaustion still crept within me, my every pore pervaded by it. I longed to simply sit, to let myself rest after this long day.

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Radiant as the dawn, the figure came down before us. It was huge, larger than any single person I had ever seen. Features almost indistinguishable with the light that burned from it, it settled among the ruin.

Even as I looked upon it, I knew what it was to be. Without needing to be told, or even to gather context, my mind realized what this creature was.

An avatar of woe. Punishment personified. Sent down by the Gods Above to carry out their will.

It spoke, its voice one of thunder. In tongues my ears did not understand, but my mind was made to recognize.

The avatar spoke, and its every word was absolute.

The sanctity of the soul had been violated. The will of the Gods Above gone against. Their mercy violated, their existence and worship thrown aside for the evil that lurked below. This blight had been tolerated long enough.

Now it would be cleansed.

Every word it spoke carried power. Every syllable infused with unquestioned authority. I blinked and realized my body had knelt without my realization. That I could not move in its presence.

The system that had granted me power was gone. Null and void in this grand being’s mere presence. Stilled and revoked so long as it was before me.

But Valencia stood, and she blazed with hatred. So deep was her rage that it fought against the sun before her, blotted out its small space before the overwhelming light. She stood tall, refusing to yield. A crucible of defiance in the face of absolute authority.

The great figure commanded her kneel and accept her fate.

I knew what her answer would be.

She was Valencia. Child of none. Breaker of all. The Dreadknight. The Cursed. And she bowed to no one.

This too she roared at the heavens, her defiance made clear.

I witnessed her then. Blazing in darkness, refusing the will of the Gods Above. Cloaked in the void, ready to fight this impossible figure that demanded her supplication. And I was terrified deep within. Of what could come of this. What if she actually did it? What if she won? Valencia was among the strongest humans I knew. Beyond me, beyond anyone I had met in sheer determination. Unshakable, unbreakable.

One should never dare to challenge the will of the Gods Above. This I knew from the avatar’s presence alone. I was strong, but this thing was beyond strength. The very personification of heaven’s will. And now it was before the dreadknight, as her patrons watched from below.

If ever the Gods Below were to extend a morsel of their generosity, it was now as she stood against an avatar of the heavens in their name.

The avatar gestured, and Valencia collapsed.

For a moment time stood still. I stood and blinked. Then again.

The dreadknight lay on her back, sprawled across the stone. Her chest was still. No breath ran into her lungs.

Gone, just like that. Her life, her flame snuffed out.

The lidless gazes from below faded away, their interest lost.

And shock and horror and even grief rose inside me.

Death came in an instant, and I could do nothing but watch it take her right before me.

One moment she had stood. Then next she was gone.

The avatar spread its arms as it hovered above, its will carried it. It had commanded Valencia to be ceased, and reality had obeyed.

It turned to me now.

Child. It spoke. You walk a treacherous path. Stray not too far, or you too will know wrath. You are Godtouched, but one elevated above other mortals is still a mortal. Meddle not outside of the domain you were given, and you will not know my presence again.

Through the will of the Gods Above, you were put on this world. Through them, you can be removed.

May we never meet again.

These words it spoke as I stood, shocked to the core.

The avatar ascended back to the heavens as I stared at Valencia’s body.

I refused to accept that she was just..gone.

The will of the Gods Above was swift and brutal, and here on this day, it had been carried out.

Exhaustion in me, I approached on unsteady legs. My mind was blank save for the faint tinges of sorrow as I sank down on my knees and gazed before me. She looked..at peace. Arms spread to either side, her eyes closed, basking in the light of the sun.

A cursed, tortured existence had been Valencia’s life. One of constant bloodshed and death to appease uncaring gods so her soul might remain untouched. She had raged and fought and conquered to be seen as worthy. Felled the mighty and laid to waste her enemies, so that none may say she was ever found wanting.

And she was gone.

A great evil had been laid to rest this day. A cruel force of despair brushed from this world.

And though no others would, my heart grieved for her.

That her story had ended this way, redemption unfound. In the shadows of my muddled thoughts, a memory gleaned forth.

Inside her was chained a demon. This memory was spurred forth as the pale corpse began to twitch.

Her eyes grew wide, blackened veins running across paper-white skin. The body jerked upright, eyes wide.

This was not Valencia returned. The woman I had known was dead and gone, and now the darkness within stirred forth once more.

The demon rose, Valencia’s flesh beginning to crawl as the being reformed her skin and shaped it into its own.

Its name was fear, and its very presence invoked despair. A primal being of the deep hells that was beyond reason, beyond speech. A blot on this world and all its beauty. Every part of me screamed to run. I was exhausted beyond belief, my skills burnt out and my reserves drained dry. But it wore the skin of a woman to whom I owed a great debt. Now, it was me who burned with hate. My hand curled around the nearest weapon I could find, screamed with tiredness as I lifted it up and before me.

All that I owed Valencia might go unpaid to my grave, but I would be damned if I would not give her a proper death.

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