Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 33: Daily life

Narinder woke up to the rooster's crow echoing in the stillness of the morning. He rubbed his eyes and, upon trying to move, noticed he had fallen asleep in an odd position, completely twisted on the enormous bed.

"This bed is too big..." he muttered, settling on the edge as his thoughts drifted to the past.

He remembered why the bed was this size. During the lamb's time, before the battle with Kallamar, Lambert shared his bed with two wives and a husband, and needed a bed large enough to accommodate them all. Narinder, still the distant god he was, had watched the lamb's life with some interest. He didn't feel envy for that companionship; after all, each of those lovers had sacrificed their life for Lambert to gain more power.

Narinder sighed, allowing his mind to wander a bit further into those memories. For a brief moment, he considered bringing flowers to the graves of those who had been sacrificed. A small part of him acknowledged that their sacrifice had helped free his own existence. If it weren't for the strength the lamb had gained through those offerings, Narinder would still be trapped in the Veil, doomed to oblivion.

"Perhaps I should... thank them," he said softly, though his pride kept him from truly meaning it. He rose from the bed, shaking off the sense of nostalgia. There were tasks to be done, and his path was still full of challenges.

With that resolve, Narinder stepped into the new day, leaving behind thoughts of gratitude he would never express.

Narinder prepared himself carefully, brushing his dark fur until it was impeccable, ready to begin the day. With elegant steps, he left his house and headed straight for the farms. There, he gathered camellia flowers and fresh fruit, casually greeting the shrimp and starfish, who looked at him with the same reverence as always.

With flowers in hand, he walked toward the cemetery. To avoid raising suspicion about his true intentions, he placed a flower on each grave, showing the same respect to all. However, when he reached the graves of the lamb's nine concubines, his step slowed. Narinder looked at them in silence, knowing that although he had never personally met them, their sacrifice had been crucial for him to be standing there.

"I never knew you, but... I'm grateful for what you did for the lamb and for me," he said softly, his tone solemn. "I hope you're at peace in the afterlife and..."

He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the words.

"...thank you for bringing happiness to Lambert, even if only for a few years each."

Narinder bowed respectfully to the graves, an unusual gesture for him, but this time it felt necessary. Then, with nothing more to say, he walked away, leaving behind a small trail of flowers that honored both the fallen and his own destiny.

He reached the cult's children, who were already waiting for his words attentively. With a firm voice, Narinder spoke to them about death, not as something terrible, but as an inevitable force, part of the cycle. He explained that death was not something to be feared, but something to be deeply respected, for he was its bearer, the guardian of that inescapable fate.

Narinder then entered the temple with his imposing presence, rang the bell with a decisive gesture, and waited for his cultists to gather. His gaze swept the room, calm but filled with purpose. He raised his hands and began his sermon, his voice echoing off the temple walls.

"Death is not an enemy; it is an inevitable companion on our journey. We must all understand that life has a cycle, and death is simply the natural end of that cycle. It is not something to be feared, but something we must accept and honor. Every loved one we have lost remains with us, in our memories and in our actions. That's why, even in death, we must honor them. Keep their essence alive, their legacy, and ensure that their souls find the rest they deserve."

Narinder let his words sink deep into the hearts of his followers, his speech firm but with an unusual warmth. He continued in his deep, serious tone:

"Let us always remember that as servants of Death, we are not here to destroy, but to guide. We must respect the cycle, and when our time comes, we will be remembered in the same way we now remember those who have gone before us."

The energy of devotion flowed from the hearts of the cultists toward him, while Narinder watched them with a contained but satisfied smile. When the sermon ended, the faithful left the temple, their minds still reflecting on the day's teachings.

Narinder headed toward his statue, and upon touching it, he felt the accumulated devotion fill him completely, a torrent of power flowing into him. He allowed himself a broader smile as he felt that energy strengthen him, both physically and spiritually.

With clarity in his mind and a firm goal, he walked toward the portal area. Without hesitation, Narinder stepped into the portal to Darwood, ready to face what awaited him, with renewed power and a clear purpose.