Deathslayer: A Return to Damnation

Chapter Eight - I apologize

Father Makyr stood alone in the furthest back portion of the graveyard. He was wearing a large black coat and black bowler hat over his regular priest outfit. Father Matthews came out to meet him, only to find them both standing in the middle of the section of victims from the Deathslayer's first crusade. Now another one was beginning and they already had several more bodies to bury in this very graveyard. "You wanted to see me, father?" Matthews asked, concerned for Makyr. "What have we done Matthews, what have we done?" Makyr said under his breath as he unscrewed a silver flask and drank from it.

"Father no- you know you're not supposed to have alcohol-" Matthews protested but then Makyr shot him a look and he could tell that Makyr truly needed more alcohol. "Why did we make the rite, Matthews? in the oldest of days," Makyr asked. Matthews took a moment to recount the story. "It was Nitepriest's final test before becoming an arch hunter and being sent to hell to fight back hell's legions, they must slay someone who has undergone the rite. you already knew that father what is going on?" Matthews asked him, concern creeping through his voice. Father Makyr began walking across the graves that he had personally helped fill by telling Styrkar the rite and performing it on him.

"All these times I stepped aside, that I let that madman rampage on without restraint, was I doing the lord's work, or the devils?" Makyr asked. Matthews fell silent as he folded his hands in front of him and walked with Makyr. "One day, my sins are going to catch up to me, father Matthews. I fear that I may not be accepted into the lord's embrace, not for the sins I've committed but the sins I've ignored. I watched from the outside as thousands were slaughtered by his hand, hordes felled by him and him alone all in search of some insane goal that has had some unknown effect upon our world, and I just gave him the power to do it all again," Makyr opened his flask and turned it upside down on top of some of the graves, pouring water into them.

"I knew you doing the rite was a bad idea father, look maybe you should lay down-" Makyr raised his hand to silent Matthews. "I apologize," Makyr said to the deceased before him. "There is a shadow on my soul, Father Matthews, a shadow which I fear will consume me if I do not do something. All these times I stepped aside and committed wholeheartedly to the sin of sloth, watching but doing nothing as the so called "Deathslayer" caused more pain and destruction wherever he went," That's when father Matthews noticed a tombstone in the shape of an angel pointing out which had a noose tied to the end of the angel's finger. Makyr walked up to it and put one hand on the bottom of the noose. Tears began to fall from his face as his hand began to shake. "I never understood what was wrong, or what was right," Makyr said. "And for that, I am sorry," Father Makyr stood on the base of the angel tombstone with both of his hands wrapped around the noose. "No! Father you can't! This isn't how you redeem yourself!" Matthews called out.

"Why not? It's not like I don't deserve it, maybe this way the lord will have mercy upon my soul," Makyr stated as he pulled the noose around his neck. "One day your penance will come, one day Father Makyr, but not today. If you don't believe me then go ahead, hang yourself here and now but you and I both know that some day you will be given a choice. A choice to make the world better or worse, a choice from god. That is when your penance must be paid, not here and not now. God has plans for you father and I assure you all you are doing here is fucking it all up!" Matthews shouted. Makyr had never heard him so passionate.

Makyr slowly slid the noose off of his head and sat at the base of the angel, his head in his hands and cried. Matthews sighed before slowly walking off. Makyr stood up and then walked to the next grave over, reading the names out loud to himself. "Isidora and Michael Matthews, beloved wife and beloved son," Makyr stopped and allowed his tears to fall as he pulled out a small flask and held it over the grave. "I'm sorry," he said, as he slowly allowed the holy water from the flask to seep into their grave.