Cult of the Lamb: The Aftermath

Chapter 8

When the Lamb finally left the temple, there was no sign of her breakdown. She was back to being the perfect leader. Narinder followed her, watching her straight back. The sun was setting, enveloping them with golden light.

He did not regret confronting her about Lio. Although he almost died, he got to know more about her. Thinking of the way he comforted her, he even felt a warmness welling up inside, and a smile crept upon his lips. But the next moment he came back to reality. The Lamb had said that she married him to humiliate him. In her eyes, he was just a foolish clown that she hated.

As he was deep in his thoughts, he realized that the Lamb had stopped walking. She turned around and stared at him, not saying a single word. Subconsciously, he wanted to keep out of her sight.

After a few seconds, she opened her mouth, but no words came out. Turning back, she left without a second glance.

*****

Walking aimlessly, the Lamb tried to clear her mind. She tried to forget about the embarrassment she had just went through. How could she break down in front of her enemy? She even let him touch her!

With a scared expression, he had dried her tears, attempting to comfort her.

Just thinking about it made blood rush up her head, making her seem both flustered and angry. She wanted to embarrass him, not the other way around!

Yes, that's right! To gain the upper hand again, perhaps she should imprison him for all her followers to see!

A wicked smile crept up her lips while her eyes gleamed with anticipation.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Plant the pumpkins, not the flowers!"

A sudden shout came from the fields.
The Lamb turned her head just in time to see a follower yelling at the newest member, Leshy, as he struggled to plow the fields. The other followers working in the fields cast him a glare before ignoring him. The Lamb sighed. Leshy isn't integrating as well as she'd hoped.

"What seems to be the matter?"

"Gracious Leader!"

The follower who yelled, a cow, was anxious at her arrival, but flared up as she recounted what happened.

"This—bush—here planted half the fields with Camellia flowers while I wasn't looking! We definitely won't make the quota this year unless we replant!"

Leshy kept his head down at the cow's torrent of words, shivering. Reminded of his pitiable state during the fight, the Lamb couldn't help but pat his shoulder to comfort him.

"It's okay. The quota is not rigid. We have more than enough produce kept in storage anyway; it doesn't matter if it's not met this year."

Perhaps reminded of his prolonged suffering from their battles, Leshy shrank back upon feeling the pressure on his shoulder.

"I-I must've subconsciously planted the flowers... Camellia flowers are scattered all throughout Darkwood... since even when I was merely a burrower."

Realizing how cowardly he was being in front of the Lamb, resentment filled his bearing as he straightened his back.

"...go away, Lamb! I don't want your pity!"

As always, his words came out as a squeak, barely intelligible. But his form seemed so different compared to his previous powerful, towering one. Looking at the indignant bishop, the Lamb couldn't help but soften her expression, taking back her outstretched hand. She thought for a moment, then took out a red flower from her storage.

"Is that...?"

"Maybe this will make you feel more at home."

Upon smelling the blossomed Camellia flower, Leshy was overjoyed. He did not hesitate to take it from the Lamb's hands, putting it on his face and deeply inhaling it.

A moment later, he stiffened, shocked at his actions. He clenched the flower in his hands as he backed away. A small squeak of "thank you" was heard before he hurried to the edge of the fields.

"Hmph."

The cow snorted, glaring at Leshy's back. Facing the Lamb, however, her expression stagnated and morphed into a flattering smile.

The Lamb watched his departing figure, sighed, and walked to the prayer statue. There, she announced a feast to be had the next day, to which her followers cheered. She could feel the growing displeasure of her cult over the indoctrination of Leshy. Hopefully a feast will raise their spirits, and make Leshy feel more welcomed.

Wait. Doesn't she hate Leshy? The Lamb stood in place in midst of her cheering followers, perplexed by her changing emotions.

The bishops were defeated. Stuck in eternal punishment. Wasn't that what she wanted all along?

But maybe it was his wounded state during that fight that made her pity him, or maybe the talk with Narinder. The hate for the bishops faded as she realized how pointless it is. Why did she become vessel to another, to walk that bloody path of no return in the first place? To avenge her little brother, Lio. But did he even want avenging?

The Lamb's eyelids drooped as a painful memory surfaced. The last words of her brother.

"You must run away! Go somewhere free, like we've always wanted."

A little lamb smiled with hope. His wool was matted with blood. Before long, an armored bull took him away. To the execution ground.

She was so blinded by rage back then that she didn't take those words to heart, wanting nothing more than to become stronger and take revenge. Even then, it was painful for her to recall that memory, and she kept it locked away in her heart.

Instead of following her brother's dying wish, she kept herself in delusion, replacing him with Hutou. She trudged forward with hatred animating her body, leaving trails of blood.

The Lamb shivered. What had she done?