The Exiled King

Chapter 32 - Gods Meet Godkiller

The gods watched as Garyth smoothly sidestepped the mad druid. However, he was never the one the druid was focused on, and the druid landed quickly, then bounded towards Lirya. Garyth's face contorted as he realised that too, and he swiftly turned and shot a magic missile at the druid. The druid dodged the missile so easily it was like she had eyes in the back of her head.

Garyth cursed and whirled around, dashing for the druid. But it was too late. She'd already reached Lirya and extended a clawed hand towards the girl, who was frozen in shock. Instead of the violent impact everyone present had been anticipating, the druid's claws gently closed around Lirya's obsidian circlet. A bright light engulfed Lirya and the druid and her wings faded away and her claws retracted. Her unseeing eyes regained sense and she blinked.

"Keyguard...?" She whispered in what could only be described as an ethereal voice.

As the unnatural strength drained from her body, Lirya stooped to support her, grabbing her arm. Wordlessly, Lirya quickly pulled her away from the rising tensions between Garyth and the other guardians and led her to the corner where Eryian stood.

"Control yourself, brother," Aeliyas whispered, looking at the tiny human child bristling with anger toward the wizard.

"You must not lose your composure if we are to band together to defeat him," Gialan added.

Garyth turned to them and his eyes lit up with an unknown expression.

"Such a treat! Even the gods show up!" He laughed.

"I have come to take your life, Garyth Herus," Pelos said in a deadly quiet voice—though the intimidation factor was somewhat affected by his mortal vessel.

Garyth simply chuckled darkly and pointed to the guardians, "You'll want to be on that side then. I have no intention of dying by your hands... Pelos Worldbringer."

As Pelos strode towards the guardians, their eyes were fixed on his mortal vessel. Disbelief was evident in their eyes, but strangely they didn't doubt that the tiny human child was indeed the god. He gave off an otherworldly presence that simply did not match the appearance he exhibited.

"Garyth Herus. Do you not even feel a shred of remorse for killing her?!" Pelos cried, anguish in his voice.

Though Pelos had long harboured hatred in his heart for the wizard for that incident, his love for all the creatures of Dargon had him hoping deep down that perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding.

Garyth's grin widened and he mocked, "You're hesitating! Oh, I'm sure she'd be fuming if she saw you, almighty Pelos! And I'll free you of all such hesitations—I don't feel a lick of remorse for that. She had it coming, being one of you sorry excuses of gods!"

Pelos' face twisted with rage and the air felt suffocating as his power rolled off him in waves.

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It was a lie. Of course it was a lie. Everything was a lie. Garyth thought back to the day he'd escape the godly prison.

He'd been so weak. Cassiel had not been kind in his ministrations, and his wounds had not healed in the prison. His powers were sealed inside his body and he had been reduced to a mere mortal—and a painfully frail one, at that.

It had been a stroke of luck that he'd glimpsed her from his cell. And it was more than a stroke of luck that she'd heard his hoarse call. That she'd been a kind soul who believed in the good in everyone. It'd taken only a few softly spoken sweet, honeyed words of deceit to convince her to aid him in escaping his cell.

It had been no fault of hers that Sylune took pity on him. That she'd been lured to the heavenly prison by Garyth's whispers. That she wound up releasing him from the bonds that kept him locked in the prison. Her only fault was her naivety—and she paid for that ignorance with her life.

She wasn't supposed to die, Garyth thought regretfully.

It had been an accident. A tragic accident that had birthed misunderstandings—which though painful in their nature, were instrumental in tying together his plan.

Alarms had quickly been raised when he was freed and the heavenly guards found him. They came at him with magic-imbued lances, entirely unaware of Sylune's presence behind him. She was half-godly. She stood no chance against weapons meant to deal with those the gods imprisoned.

The heavenly guards felt no emotion. They were mere puppets—automatons in the service of the gods. It mattered not to them that the soft cry had come from the wrong target. As she crumpled to the ground, they advanced soullessly upon Garyth.

Garyth fled the scene nursing yet another regret, with hands wet with blood and heart further burdened by the weight of his actions. Sylune's lifeless body lay there beside the corpses of the heavenly guards, killed by their own weapons. That was the scene that Pelos stumbled upon hours later.

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With a heavy heart, Garyth continued his act of contempt.

Go on... you know I'm irredeemable. Why do you still hold back? He thought, eyeing Pelos.

The god's face was a mask of rage and anguish—rather unbecoming on a child's face.

"She was so stupid... so easily deceived," Garyth taunted, scrutinising Pelos' face with narrowed eyes.

For someone who will do nothing when the world is threatened, he seems awfully hesitant to attack the man who killed his daughter.

Is he afraid? No... not Pelos Worldbringer.

"Pelos, will you truly just stand by and watch as your precious blessed guardians are killed?" Garyth said with a smirk, realising why the god was hesitating.

There were children present.

Pelos finally snapped, Garyth's sharp words like knives driven into his skull.

"You will not harm them," He said with deadly calm.

He moved to stand protectively in front of the guardians and gathered his vast magical reserves to his palm and launched a large projectile at Garyth. One that tore up the path in its wake and promised sure destruction.

And so begins the end, Garyth thought.

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Any guesses as to what Garyth's motives might be?