Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 50: The Weight of Memory

Night fell slowly, dyeing the sky a deep blue and covering the cult in an eerie silence. Narinder, still under the branches of the tree, watched as the stars began to shine above him, but he did not feel the peace he sought. He stood up with a sigh, his body feeling heavy, but not from physical tiredness, but from the emotional burden he carried with him. Each step he took back to his home resonated on the ground like an echo in his mind. The day had passed faster than he expected, and tomorrow, the battle against Heket would be inevitable. His next challenge.

As he walked towards his home, the night air enveloped him, cool and dense, almost as if the shadows themselves were following him. It was not just another fight, not when the possibility of sealing another former deity, another part of what was once his family, was approaching. He felt the weight of that decision in every fiber of his being.

He entered his home, the place that offered him shelter, if not peace. He lay back on his bed, which had witnessed his restlessness so many nights before. The remains of his shredded pillow, with the fibers of lamb's wool scattered across the surface, called to him. With trembling fingers, he picked up a piece of the pillow and caressed it in his hands. The soft feel of the wool reminded him of Lambert, the Lamb, his loyal follower and liberator.

"Lambert..." he murmured, his voice barely audible in the darkness of the room. "Do you think what I'm doing is right?"

He brought the piece of wool to his face, feeling its softness against his skin. He inhaled deeply, the soft, familiar scent of lamb providing him with a strange comfort, a small ray of peace in the midst of his torment.

For an instant, his mind quieted, and the weight he carried in his chest seemed to dissipate slightly. He closed his eyes, embracing the fragrance that enveloped him. And though he knew that tomorrow he would have to face another of his brothers, at that moment, he allowed exhaustion to finally overcome him. Narinder fell into a deep sleep, hoping that, at least for one night, his nightmares would leave him alone.

In Narinder's dreams he was enveloped in the vast darkness of the Veil, an eternal prison he had come to know well. However, on this occasion, the cold and oppression of the place did not seem to weigh on him as much. There, before him, was Lambert, the Lamb. His faithful follower and, in many ways, his only true company over the years. The Lamb's presence brought a strange warmth to that inhospitable space.

Despite the heavy chains that bound his body, reminding him of his captivity, Narinder smiled. Lambert sat beside him, chattering happily about his exploits, his crusades, and the struggles he had faced. His soft, calm voice filled the void, and Narinder found himself listening with a strange sense of peace. Time seemed to matter little in the Veil; his words flowed unhurriedly, describing in detail how he had defeated Kallamar, after nearly 140 years since Narinder had entrusted him with the red crown.

Narinder watched him, his skeletal hand lifting the small Lamb delicately, passing him back and forth as if he were a simple toy. His long, tapering fingers toyed with Lambert's small figure, but there was no malice in his gesture, only a strange tenderness, reserved only for him. Lambert laughed softly, letting Narinder handle him without complaint, as he continued to tell his stories.

"Almost 140 years, you say? You've been slower than I expected," Narinder commented with a wry smile, though his tone was full of affection. He felt the weight of the chains as they moved, but at that moment he did not care.

Lambert just smiled back, his eyes shining with that calm light he had always had. "Well, master, not all of us can be as powerful as you."

Narinder's laughter echoed in the emptiness of the Veil, a laugh he had not heard come from himself in centuries. Here, with Lambert, the shadows did not seem so threatening, and the Veil was nothing more than a space in which he could allow himself, for a moment, to forget his fate.

"I'm glad you're here, Lambert," he finally murmured, as his hand rested gently on the Lamb's head. "This place is not so terrible with someone like you at its side."

Narinder woke abruptly, the sound of the rooster echoing in the silence of the early morning like an echo that tore him from the rest he had so desperately needed. The echo of sleep still clung to his mind, as his three eyes blinked slowly, trying to adjust to reality. He rubbed his face, the memories of the Veil and Lambert fading like the mist that accompanies the first hours of the day, although he was left with that warm feeling he had felt when he was with the Lamb.

He sat up in bed, yawning deeply, as if the weight of the world still rested on his shoulders. He couldn't remember chatting like this with Lambert in centuries, and the nostalgia of that conversation washed over him, leaving him momentarily vulnerable. It was a dream, a simple dream, but one that had left a deep imprint on his mind. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, silently thanking for that brief respite in his exhausted mind.

Narinder finally stood up, his body moving heavily, as if he carried the chains of the Veil with him even in the mortal world. He picked up his brush and began to groom his fur with automatic movements, his mind still wandering in the memories of the night. As he looked in the mirror, his thoughts inevitably turned to the battle that awaited him that day. Today, more than ever, he felt the weight of the responsibility he had taken on.

As he finished getting ready, he opened the door to his house and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The light of dawn was beginning to color the horizon, but Narinder barely noticed it. His mind was already fixed on what would come next. Today would be the day of his confrontation with Heket, and although he had rested, something inside him was still restless.

"One more day... one more enemy," he muttered to himself, and began to walk, knowing that he could not allow himself to hesitate now.

Narinder walked slowly through the cult, caressing the scars on his wrists, those marks of the chains that had bound him in the Veil for so long. Each brush of his fingers over the scars reminded him of his struggle, the pain and the sacrifice. But more than anything, it reminded him of the price he was willing to pay to achieve his goal. A low sigh escaped his mouth, his gaze lost in the horizon, as he continued to caress those wounds invisible to others but so deep to him.

The cult remained calm, the followers continued with their daily tasks, oblivious to the internal conflicts that tormented him. Narinder moved like a shadow among them, imposing but silent, watching the world continue to spin despite its own internal storm.

Suddenly, Sozo's shrill voice brought him out of his reverie.

"Sozo was here, all alone, thinking about mushrooms... Uh, Sozo means Sozo's little followers, Mushroomo!" Sozo waved his long, thin arms as he spoke, his enthusiasm contagious.

Narinder, still scattered, raised his head to look at him. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect from this strange creature.

"Yeah, they must be very lost without Sozo. They love Sozo! They all love Sozo, especially Lamb!" the ant continued, not stopping for a second to breathe.

Narinder listened without interrupting, feeling a small pang at the sound of Lambert's name.

"Without their great and beloved Sozo, the Mushrooms must be very scared... YOU! You must save them! Save them and bring them to Sozo."

Sozo's request was, like everything he said, strange and surreal. Narinder bowed his head slightly, pondering for a second. A mission to rescue mushroom creatures trapped in Anura. It didn't seem like a challenge worthy of his power, but deep down he knew that any opportunity to distract himself from his thoughts would be welcome.

"They will be trapped in Anura. They always get captured when they don't have their great Sozo to protect them. Rescue them and bring them to me," Sozo added with a mix of desperation and urgency.

Narinder let out a slight snort. Rescuing the Mushrooms didn't seem like the most glorious task, but he was already heading to Anura. Besides, gaining more followers was always beneficial.

"It's okay, Sozo. I'll go get them," he replied in his deep, calm voice. Then, without another word, he turned away, preparing his mind for what was to come: not just a rescue, but the battle that awaited him against Heket.

And as he walked, he caressed those scars again, reminding himself that he couldn't afford to hesitate.