Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 52: Scar on the throat.

Narinder walked towards the door of Heket's temple, but this time he did not do so with his usual calm. A strange feeling, almost of fear, oppressed his chest. He caressed the scars on his wrists, those marks that reminded him of the sacrifices he had made, the promises he had broken, and the shadows of his past that never left him alone. He tried to find in that gesture some calm, a respite before the storm, but all he felt was the weight of what he was about to face.

The entrance of the temple rose in front of him, monumental and dark, as if anxiously awaiting the confrontation that was to come. The large corridor that extended after crossing the door was decorated with symbols of hunger, echoes of ancient times. The smell of humidity and mold invaded the place, a reminder of the presence of Heket, the goddess of hunger.

With each step he took, the echo of his footsteps resonated off the walls, a harbinger of the impending battle. At the end of the hall, the hulking figure of Heket, his sister, awaited him. But this was not the Heket he remembered. The corruption had transformed her body into something monstrous, her eyes glowing with an evil glow, and her slimy skin had darkened with time.

Narinder stood before her, the tension in the air palpable. He had seen his other siblings fall, but now, being so close to what was once his family, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness mixed with fury.

He took a deep breath and, in a firm voice, greeted her.

"Hello, sister."

Heket, her voice cracking and filled with resentment, managed to articulate just a few words:

"Vile and cruel puppeteer... I will destroy you... again and again..."

Each word seemed to be wrenched painfully from his wounded throat. Her once regal gaze was filled with hatred and a rage pent up for centuries. This was not just a battle of power, but a confrontation of years of betrayal and resentment.

Narinder knew this battle would not be easy. Heket's temple vibrated with corrupt energy, and the echo of his footsteps resonated as he prepared for what was to come. Heket, in her monstrous form, leapt towards him, and the battle began.

The enormous frog leaped from one end of the room to the other, its massive size moving with surprising speed. Narinder dodged its attacks, but not without difficulty. Each leap of Heket made the ground shake beneath his feet. The frog goddess's tongue lashed the air, searching for her brother with fury, while belches of red flies filled the space, chasing the god of death. Explosive flies fell like showers of terror, exploding around him.

Narinder used his skills with precision. He took advantage of the monstrous frogs that entered the room to gain fervor, absorbing their energy to launch powerful curses at Heket. Each time he managed to charge his relic, a wave of divine energy surged from his claw, injuring his sister. But Heket was relentless, lunging at him again and again, tireless.

The first phase of the battle was fierce, but Narinder managed to stay one step ahead. Heket, despite his aggressiveness, had slow and predictable movements. Each leap, each attack with his tongue, gave Narinder just enough time to counterattack with precision.

As the fight progressed, Heket began to weaken, but not without intensifying her fury. Her gigantic body grew slower, but the exploding flies became more numerous, and her leaps became unpredictable. However, Narinder's patience and skill prevailed. With each attack, she brought her sister one step closer to defeat.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of combat, Narinder launched a final attack. Her sharp sickle, slashed hard into Heket's body. A scream echoed throughout the room, and her sister's immense body began to crumble. The frog goddess, corrupted for so long, lost her divinity before her brother's eyes. Instead of disappearing into dust, her monstrous form faded away, leaving behind a smaller, mortal, fragile Heket.

Heket, now vulnerable and mortal, knelt on the ground, panting. His gaze, no longer filled with hatred, showed a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. Narinder, although victorious, did not feel satisfied.

Narinder, exhausted both physically and emotionally, looked at his sister Heket, now reduced to a fragile and mortal form. There was no more room for words, only tiredness. Without saying anything, he raised his hand and teleported her to the cult.

With a deep sigh, Narinder stood still for a moment, catching his breath after the intense battle. It had been an arduous fight, not only because of Heket's power, but because of the emotional weight she carried in her soul. Each confrontation with his brothers consumed him a little more.

His eyes fell on the floor of the temple, where three divine tears now softly shone. With slow movements, he collected them, feeling the energy they emanated. Despite the victory, he did not feel triumph. Only deep exhaustion.

"Two more... just two more..." he muttered to himself, knowing that the end of his crusades was getting closer, but with each step he felt emptier.

With the divine tears in his possession, Narinder activated his power and returned to the cult, hoping to find some peace, even if it was just for a brief moment.

Narinder walked silently under the night sky, the stars shining above him, but his mind was far from all the beauty of the outside world. With slow, heavy steps, he headed straight for his house, consciously avoiding the cultists' teleportation zone as he did not want to activate it. He had neither the strength nor the spirit to face his sister or anyone else that night.

Arriving home, he shed his robes with automatic movements, as if it was all part of a meaningless routine. He threw his body onto the bed, which welcomed him with the softness he so desperately needed. Narinder reached for the pieces of the wool pillow, gathered them together, and buried his face in them, letting the soft scent of lamb envelop him.

Tiredness slowly dragged him into sleep. Between sighs, his body began to relax, and in the darkness of his room, where no one could see or hear him, Narinder purred softly. That sound, so incongruous with the powerful image of the god that he was, filled the room with a sense of calm he had not felt in a long time.

Thus he spent the rest of the night, lost in sleep, with Lambert's scent comforting him and reality fading away for a few hours.