The Lost Kingdom

Chapter 2

Fucking willow trees everywhere.

Its intoxicating smell reminded him of everything he wished he could have, everything he hoped to have, and therein lies the problem, hope. 

The place was dead silent with only the occasional sound of hooves until of course...

"What ya up to?"

Motherfucking Aor.

"Aor," he said, his back still turned away from him.

"You seem cheerful."

He didn't say much. There wasn't much to say anyway. Their talks were more silent than loud. Aor was something most mortals would call a friend but gods didn't make friends. They made acquaintances. Over the centuries Aor was that 'friend'.

"What do you see happening?" he asked slowly.

Aor frowned. "Alcaeus, we both know I couldn't tell you even if I knew... which I do."

Alcaeus gave no reply. The answer was expected.

Aor was the god's and the universe's storyteller. Storyteller may have been a stretch, he was more of the refiner, the keeper, and the protector of the stories. But in reality, Aor was a wild child. He was arrogant, and violent and did things for the dramatics of it all, but he meant well in the end. They'd been on many quests together.

Friend or foe?

He grunted as the voices came into his thought space again.

"They're still irritating?" Aor asked unconcerned. He was pulling apples from thin air to tempt the poor horse before making it disappear causing the horse to neigh in annoyance.

The voices weren't irritating. They were infuriating, torturing and so much more. The gods knew how many words he'd use against them. He was never one to withstand peer pressure so he danced to their tune. They knew how to get to him much easier than anyone could ever. Of all the foes and friends he had vanquished, this was the one he wished he could've ended the day its thoughts bore arms to him.

"So why this way?" Aor asks.

"You know why."

He laughs heartily. "I don't actually. I love the suspense in your story. It's all so... beautiful"

He rolled his eyes.

"The village requires some cleansing. They've done this to themselves."

"So you say every time but we all know the reason."

He did. They demanded blood. This was his excuse.

"You gone home lately?"

"No."

They were quiet for a while. It was always hard for Aor to talk to Alcaeus and he knew it. In another life, they may have been born as brothers, forged by the same blade, brought to this world against their will, and forced to adapt as they had no other option. While Aor got the blunter end, he was forced under much more. If the choice were given, he'd choose death.

You'll be free. You'll never be free. You're ours.

Their chanting grew louder as he felt himself lose further control over himself. Aor tailed behind until his steps were heard no more.

He could see the village now. It was a peaceful place. The children played not knowing that their end was near.

This was always the worst part of the hunt. The foresight. Sometimes it was fun, to run into them and quietly informing that something was coming for them. They wouldn't believe it at first and then he'd change and soon enough they're blood would be on his hands. The worst part was no matter what he did, to whoever, the innocent or the guilty, he never felt any remorse. It was a penance. He believed with his soul and heart it was necessary, so why feel guilty?

But sometimes it felt depressing. He held the lifelines of the poor children. They were all innocent until they grew to be the same predators and demons their forefathers were. This had been his justification for countless centuries but honestly.. he was never wrong.

The blood. Blood for the gods.

He prepared for the moment. 

"I hope some live to see the new day." he prayed silently to whoever heard him.

It was pointless of course.

The last thing he saw was the red. The last thing he heard was her scream. The last thing he felt was the void before everything went red.