Majai Presents Pagan Hills: Beige

Chapter 1: The Bhelpyra: Part 3

As Thomas attempted a garbled communication, focusing on Corvus's dog tags, Corvus wrestled with his instincts. The urgency in Thomas's incoherent attempt to speak suggested significance, compelling Corvus to reconsider his next action. With a heavy heart, he adjusted Thomas's jaw, enduring the unsettling sound of it snapping back into a semblance of alignment, to maintain the only link to the man's fading essence.

"What was that?" Corvus inquired, bracing for any response.

"Hooah." A profound silence enveloped them, freezing Corvus in a moment of stark realization. He felt a deep connection to Thomas, tears welling up as he abruptly rose to his feet, stifling a sniffle to prevent the tears from cascading down his face. The word "hooah" is a battle cry and an expression of high morale, strength, and confidence commonly used in the S.R. Army. It signifies acknowledgment, approval, and recognition of a command or statement. The term embodies a spirit of solidarity, readiness, and unyielding determination among soldiers. Thomas's final utterance left Corvus with a heart aching in sorrow. Gently, he returned the ID to Thomas's wallet and laid it back upon Thomas's form, hoping that Thomas would have understood the necessity of Corvus's actions. With a solemn pause, Corvus extended his hands over Thomas, his mind heavy with the weight of what was to come. This act of alteration was not new to him, yet this marked the first occasion he had to perform it on someone he considered a brother.

"Thomas Richards, you were a man of true distinction. Whether you had a family, I cannot bear to know; ignorance may be a kindness in this case. My deepest apologies for your fate," Corvus whispered, channeling his swirling emotions into a focused intensity. The grief within him was vast enough to engulf the field. "May the Old Gods and the ancestors, known and unknown, grant you serenity, Thomas Richards." As Thomas emitted a gurgling sound, Corvus observed the near mending of his jaw, and in his gaze, the last vestiges of humanity had vanished, leaving eyes as inhuman as a goat's.

"Worship Art Shiva Veneration," Corvus intoned. The demon within Thomas screamed piercingly, thrashing in a futile bid for aggression. "Ruthless Agni," Corvus pronounced, and flames ignited upon the demon's forehead, engulfing it without touching the surrounding grass or Corvus's knife. Corvus watched, unwavering and unflinching, as the demon writhed and howled, its physical form the only barrier against the daylight it dreads. Knowing escape was impossible, Corvus remained still until all that was left before him were ashes and his reclaimed blade. "Goodbye," he murmured, picking up his knife and returning to his RV, a solemn figure amidst the aftermath.

Corvus wasn't taken aback to discover his eggs had overcooked while left unattended on the stove. Under normal circumstances, he would've consumed them regardless, but his appetite had waned. After turning off the stove, he surveyed the remnants of his intended meal, considering it a fortunate turn for Stella, who would get an upgrade from her usual kibble, inadvertently spoiled earlier. He carefully separated the edible portions of the omelet, placing them into Stella's dish with a fork. Stella, enthusiastic and tail wagging, hurried to her bowl to partake in the unexpected feast. "Well," Corvus mused aloud, "I trust you all found some enjoyment in The Aurora Kingdom. It seems tonight might be our final evening here."

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson, Corvus's gaze lingered on its descent, his anxiety mounting with the encroaching darkness. The day's events, particularly the unsettling proximity of Scapegoats during daylight, left him far from tranquil. Driving towards Nuremberg, capital of the Aurora Kingdom, he struggled to savor the fleeting moments of daylight, a task becoming increasingly challenging. The sinking sun seemed to weigh heavily on Corvus, its retreat a tangible force against his attempt to remain focused on the road. Every so often, his attention was involuntarily drawn to the expanding shadows at the edge of the horizon, heightening his awareness and tension. The sensation of his hair standing on end and muscles clenching underscored his growing unease, his heart's pounding rhythm overshadowing the car's stereo. It felt akin to a panic attack, a notion Corvus would entertain if not for the familiarity of the sensation. "It'll return," he reassured himself, though his laugh was devoid of conviction, sweat beading on his forehead. Doubt crept in with every sunset, disbelief clouding his thoughts as daylight faded into night. Seeking a moment of reprieve, Corvus closed his eyes against the road ahead, immersing himself in darkness, yearning for just a bit more time. "Please, let it return," he implored into the void.