Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 97: Scar on the Neck

Narinder took a moment to look at the cultists gathered in the temple, their faces filled with hope and loyalty. He informed them in a firm but calm voice, "Jalala was given many opportunities to return to our faith and redeem herself. This latest decision is nothing less than a just atonement for her sins." His words rang with authority and resolve. The cultists nodded, their faces lit by a mix of pride and admiration. To them, their god was both protector and judge, and that righteousness gave them a security that only Narinder could inspire.

As each of the faithful returned to their daily tasks, Narinder stood silently in the center of the temple, his thoughts racing through his mind. For him, condemning Jalala to the veil had been a strategic decision, not an emotional one; a necessary act to reinforce the chains of his relic and protect himself. Jalala, now trapped in the void, would serve as a barrier to anyone who tried to free the chained bishops. If anyone tried to break the relic's chains, Jalala's would be broken first, freeing her, and before she was sealed she was placed under the curse of sin that he himself had imposed on her, thus turning her into an angry guardian, trapped and ready to fiercely attack whoever tried to break the seals of the chains. For Narinder, it was a necessary and calculated fate, one more sacrifice on the board of his protection.

Finally, Narinder left the temple, his thoughts clearing as he saw his cultists working in harmony. He watched the sunrise dye the sky in warm tones and felt a slight peace within him. He watched his faithful tending to the land, praying, preparing the altar; a reminder of the deeper purpose behind each of their acts. The peace and stability of his cult depended on difficult decisions, and he was willing to make them, again and again, for the benefit of all of them.

"Well," he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of his mission return to him, "it is time to face this great test."

Narinder walked through the cult, his mind filled with determination and hope. Each step he took resonated with new purpose, and the sunlight provided a comforting warmth. Leaving the familiar grounds, he made his way toward the area of ​​the portals, where he always found the mystic merchant. The path was adorned with the flowers his followers had planted, and the air was fresh and filled with sweet scents that made him feel lighter.

As he arrived, he saw the mystic, his figure wrapped in a dark cloak that seemed to absorb the light around him. Narinder approached with an innate respect, recognizing the wisdom that emanated from the ethereal being. "Hello, mystic," he greeted, his voice firm but kind. "I have fulfilled my duties and dealt with the last bishop."

The mystic looked up, his hollow, deep eyes seeming to reflect all the knowledge of the universe. "Shamura and I did not exchange much. He did not really need much from me. In truth, it was a shame what happened to him," he replied, his tone grave, almost melancholy.

"Such is life," Narinder replied, nodding in grim understanding.

"So you have completed your task, Red Crown. The bishops are no longer trapped in purgatory. What happens to them now does not interest me. But what happens to you... I have made deals with many deities, whose designs I have seen repeated over the millennia. Your designs, however... are very interesting. Therefore, I offer you a gift in favor of consolidating our business."

At that moment, a shadow emerged from beneath the mystic's cloak, advancing towards Narinder with an eerie grace. When the lamb appeared, time seemed to stand still. Narinder stood frozen, never expecting to see the beautiful white wool that had been a symbol of hope and light in his life again.

"How did I get here?" the lamb asked, his eyes shining with confusion. Looking at Narinder, he didn't recognize him for a moment; Narinder's "mortal" form was something completely new to him. But seeing the red crown adorning his forehead, he began to connect the dots. "My lord?" Lambert murmured, his tone filled with surprise and longing.

Narinder, mouth ajar and breathing deeply, studied the lamb. Through their connection, he read its mind and understood that it was indeed Lambert, genuinely him, though now stripped of the power of the bishops' hearts. He was completely mortal, with clothes made of rags and old.

They looked at each other in a silence charged with emotion. Joy and sadness intertwined in the air, and Narinder felt a whirlwind of feelings. Nervously, he took a step forward, wanting to close the distance between them.

But Lambert, in a burst of recognition, quickly approached and hugged Narinder tightly, overflowing with a mixture of relief and happiness. It was a gesture that crossed the barriers of time and pain, a moment that rescued the essence of what they had shared before the storm.

Narinder let himself be carried away by the hug, feeling the warmth of Lambert's body, a palpable reminder of what he had lost and what he had found again. In that instant, all fears and doubts vanished; it was the return of the last lamb.

Narinder felt vulnerable, as if the entire weight of his world and his history had slipped from his shoulders for an instant. He hid his face in the fluffy wool of the lamb and nestled his face on Lambert's shoulder, breathing deeply in the pure scent of the animal. It was a scent that evoked memories of calm and protection, a refuge in the midst of the emotional storm he had faced. The peace it granted him was undeniable, as if in that instant, everything was fine.

Lambert, oblivious to the complexity of his god's emotions, simply enjoyed that moment. It didn't matter how he had come to this world of the living, all he cared about was hugging his god for hours.

Narinder sank even deeper into Lambert's warmth, his mind finding comfort in the softness of the lamb. With each breath, the soft purr that emerged from his chest was an echo of contentment, a sign that he could finally allow himself to be vulnerable. There, he felt his heart open, letting out the weight of years of resentment and fear.

The softness of the wool affected Narinder in ways he hadn't anticipated. It was as if every fiber of the lamb wrapped him in an eternal embrace, pushing away the shadows that had tormented his mind. In that connection, he found a peace he had never imagined, a moment of pure happiness that contrasted drastically with the emotional storm he had faced.

With his eyes closed, he allowed himself to remember his brothers, the decisions he had made, the shadows of his past. But in that embrace, everything felt more manageable. Memories were not a burden, but lessons that had led him to that very moment. Narinder understood that, although the path to redemption was full of thorns, it was also illuminated by moments of light like that one.

"Thank you, Lambert," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Narinder adjusted his face and looked at the scar that ran all the way around Lambert's neck. "And thank you for giving me your life, for giving me this moment."

Lambert smiled, tightening his hold a little tighter. "I will always be here, my lord. Just tell me what you need."

Narinder nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude. It was a reminder that he was not alone on his path, that there were those who cared about him and his well-being. This bond with his followers, with his cult, gave him strength to face what was to come. Though the future was uncertain, that moment of warmth and acceptance allowed him to glimpse a hope that grew with each beat of his heart.