Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 41: Under the Shade of a Camellia

Narinder walked with heavy steps, the air around him thick with his frustration. In one hand, he held the red, corrupted tablet, the product of all his rage and despair. Although he had completed it, he knew he still did not have enough power to use it. That ritual, thought out and perfected over centuries in his confinement, was still an unattainable goal for his current state. The weakness he felt filled him with bitterness, and each step seemed to add more weight to his burden.

As he reached the farms, the sight of his younger brother, Leshy, resting under a barn, made him stop. Covered in manure, Leshy looked more like a wild animal than an ancient god. He lay on the ground, dirty, vulnerable, and without the slightest sign of dignity.

Narinder could not help but laugh at the sight. A dry, bitter laugh escaped him, almost involuntarily. That image of his brother, so pathetic, gave him a strange relief. Seeing him reduced to that ridiculous and degrading form made him forget, if only momentarily, the terror that Leshy had represented for him in the past. The fearsome god of chaos now seemed insignificant, someone not to be feared.

The farmers, for their part, completely ignored Leshy, as if he did not even exist. They saw him as just another defeated being, unimportant, powerless. Narinder stood there for a moment, watching in silence, enjoying that small internal victory. Although he could not yet execute his final plan, there was something comforting about seeing his brother in that state, defeated and forgotten.

With an almost mocking smile, Narinder put the red tablet away in his cloak. His plan would still be in motion, but for now, he would enjoy the spectacle of Leshy's fall.

Narinder, after collecting food from the farms and handing out blessings to the farmers for their hard work, walked with the calm of a leader in control of his cult. The cultists greeted him respectfully as he passed, bowing their heads in reverence. Narinder responded with a slight nod of his own, acknowledging their loyalty, but not lingering too long.

Arriving at the kitchens, he greeted each of those present: the white dove that was in charge of preparing the rations, the red worm that cleaned the utensils, a yellow cat that seemed intent on its tasks, and the ox that organized the provisions. Everyone was busy with their chores, and the atmosphere of order and devotion permeated the place.

As he watched the yellow cat walk towards the farms with a bowl of water in her hands, Narinder didn't pay her much attention.

He left the day's recipes in the kitchen, making sure to include an extra ration for his younger brother. Although he despised the idea, he knew that, for now, he had to keep him alive. Leshy still had value, even in his degraded state. Without the location of his relic, Narinder could not afford to lose that piece on the board.

With one last glance at the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, Narinder left, his thoughts revolving around the plans he still had to execute.

Narinder, for his part, walked towards the cult's teaching area where the younger ones waited. He was preparing to give another lesson, teaching them about the nature of power, sacrifice, and loyalty, sowing in them the seeds of his worldview.

Meanwhile, in a less observed corner of the cult, Kitty was lifting Leshy off the ground with effort. Her weak, compost-covered body made her frown, and although the other cultists looked askance, no one intervened. They all remembered Narinder's words, who ordered them to do the bare minimum for Leshy, and they let Kitty take care of it without question.

"Ah! Kitty, hello!" Leshy greeted cheerfully, though looking in the wrong direction, a sad and comical reminder of his blindness. Before he could say anything else, a jet of cold water drenched him from head to toe.