Sleep Like The Dead

Prologue

How does one continue when they have lost it all?

How long must you fight before there is no longer a point?

When do you just give up? Accept your fate?

They ran for years. They fought, stole, hid, anything to stay alive. They promised their mother they would live, they swore they would fight. And they did, they did for three years, but even still, they were caught.

The next year they spent locked in a cell, being tortured for information. The damned cultists demanded the whereabouts of other herds, other villages of Sheep-Folk. They knew of none, but that didn't stop the cultists from trying to pry it out of them. The monsters snapped off their horns, sheared their wool, docked their tail, anything that would strip away their sheep identity, all for information they didn't have. Three seasons this torment lasted, it was some time in winter that they finally gave up.

It was their 18th birthday when the lamb was dragged from their cell. Shackles hung around their neck and wrists, chains tied their arms behind their back as they were forced to walk to face their fate. There was pain in every step, a trail of crimson followed behind them as they shuffled through the forest, past bones of their fallen kind.

They walk to an opening in the forest, the four bishops stand at the back, their eyes trained onto the lone lamb. Said lamb is shoved to their knees in front of them. Their head placed on the stone stained red with the blood of their kin. Their eyes burn with anger and hatred as they stare up at them. The lamb doesn't listen as the bishops speak, their mind flows with the faces of departed sheep and rams. Innocent lives who were slaughtered in their name...

Just as they would.

As soon as the bishops finished their drawn out speech, the executioner raised his blade. The lamb squeezed their eyes shut as the blade fell down upon their neck.

They opened their eyes slowly, only to be blinded by a brilliant white. They blink a few times to adjust to their new surroundings. They look around at the vast emptiness around them and stand. They can hear the sound of chains ahead of them, and a path just so happens to lead them in that direction. Having nowhere else to go, they begin their walk.

As they approach the sound three figures begin to take shape at the end of the path. Three cats, two small ones in a meditative state, their staves crossed in front of the much larger cat they guard. They pause as they stare at the massive being. It tugs hard against chains, restraints much like their own. Pity fills their chest for a moment before the cat realizes their presence. "Come closer." Its voice boomed through the air, echoing into the nothingness that surrounds them.

The lamb hesitates before walking closer to the cats. They pause on a stone carved with symbols they had never seen before. Their gaze returns to the massive cat ahead of them. Their eyes are wide as they scan the being. It wears white rags, its eyes are hidden behind a black veil, skeletal arms ooze some sort of black substance. The sound of metal on bone pierces their ears whenever it moves, causing them to flinch. "Fear not. For though you are already dead, I still have need of you."

The lamb listens as the bishop, The One Who Waits, speaks. He offers the lamb a deal, he will resurrect them, give them life once more. "However there is a catch," he explains. "You must start a cult in my name. Slay the Bishops, and free me from my eternal hell."

"But my lord," the lamb finally speaks, ignoring the metallic taste in their mouth, "how can I fight anyone?" They died a prisoner, they surely would fail moments after being given life.

The One Who Waits chuckles. "Why little lamb, I will bestow upon you my crown. With my power you may slay those who stand in your way. Now... do we have a deal?"