Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 17: Echoes of the Past and Shadows of the Present

At least three hours passed with Narinder motionless, seated in the sand, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the waves gently broke on the shore. His thoughts were so scattered that he couldn't make sense of them, as if each idea dissolved before he could grasp it. Eventually, he reclined on the cool sand, looking up at the night sky. The moon shone with a serene intensity, and under its light, his thoughts began to take shape, clearer, more solid.

He recalled his childhood, long before the disputes of the ancient gods. Before chaos enveloped everything, Narinder rarely allowed himself to cry. That was the task of Kallamar, his younger brother, who always worried about problems and went out of his way to find solutions. Kallamar was the crybaby of the five.

That image, so distant in time, elicited a soft, genuine laugh from Narinder. He rarely found humor in memories of the past, but this was one of those moments. He imagined what would have happened in this situation if his brothers had been there with him. Heket, ever practical and attentive, would probably have baked him a cake, the best in the world, to comfort him. Leshy, on the other hand, would have just bounced around, trying to distract him with his restless, childlike energy. And Shamura... always with her heavy wisdom and long stories. Surely, she would have offered encouraging words filled with morals that Narinder would find tedious but familiar.

Recalling those moments filled his heart, if only for an instant. But that warmth was soon replaced by a bitter sensation. "Those same four... cast me aside worse than garbage," he murmured to himself, the echo of his voice swallowed by the murmuring waves. Had he really meant anything to them? Or perhaps, he thought, he had been just a tool, a sharp weapon used in the battle between the gods. A battle in which he and his brothers had won, only to be cast into oblivion.

The rhythmic sound of the sea was so soothing that it almost allowed him to forget those doubts. He stretched out on the sand, rolling a bit to shake off the cold that had accumulated in his fur. He shouldn't worry so much about his brothers. After all, they were all dead now, destroyed by Lambert to free him. Narinder slowly rose, shaking off the sand that covered his body. No matter how dark the past was, he could no longer return to it.

He decided to walk along the harbor, the wooden planks creaking under his paws. The night air was heavy with the sea breeze, and in the distance, under the pale light of the moon, he saw a shadow he recognized instantly. A red-furred fox emerged from the shadows, its body hidden beneath a black hood. Its aura radiated danger, an evil that seemed part of its very essence. However, Narinder greeted it with the same coldness he would have shown to any other being.

"Greetings, god of death," said the fox in a mocking tone. "I see you've finally escaped your prison."

Narinder smiled, the whiteness of his fangs gleaming in the darkness. His smile was macabre, a living shadow in the moonlight. "What better than a hunter-to-hunter chat, right? And of course, I'm free. I'm quite pleased with the deals you made with my lamb. You gave it... a lot of power."

The fox tilted its head slightly, its tone laced with calculated malice. "Oh, it was nothing really. I will miss that lamb, without a doubt. It was a true 'wolf in sheep's clothing,' as they say."

Narinder maintained his smile, but his gaze intensified. "And you come to offer me a deal? I could certainly use more of your talismans, but I don't have particularly valuable lives to offer you. Although..." He paused, his tone becoming playful and mischievous. "I suppose the pig that acts as secretary could serve."

The fox let out a light, mocking laugh. "I'm afraid the four talismans I had I gave to your little lamb. I've only come to greet the true god, and to see how that peculiar lamb's work turned out."