Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 144: Ascension Part 1

The night had been a haven of peace for Narinder. Although he did not dream anything, he woke up feeling refreshed, as if the weight of his worries had momentarily lifted. For the first time in weeks, his mind was clear and his heart beat with a mix of excitement and determination. Today would be the day his twins, Baal and Aym, would ascend to godhood.

Dawn had not yet broken, and the shadows of night enveloped the cult in a blanket of silence. Narinder got up carefully, so as not to wake Lambert and Goliath. However, the movement of the bed caused Goliath to rub his eye and murmur in a deep, sleepy voice:

"Go back to bed..."

Lambert, with his usual tenderness, yawned and hugged Goliath tighter, burying his face in the goat's chest. The scene was so intimate and quiet that for a moment Narinder hesitated to leave, but the urgency of the preparations called to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he reached for his robes, "I have to get things ready."

Goliath only mumbled something unintelligible before settling himself more comfortably in bed, while Lambert let out a soft sigh and they both fell back to sleep entwined.

The cold air of dawn hit Narinder's face as he left the house, but he didn't care. His mind was already focused on the details of the day. He walked to the work area at the cult, where a sturdy table and rudimentary tools awaited him. Although he did not have the talent of Kudaai, the master blacksmith, Narinder had learned enough to work metal with precision.

With agile and concentrated movements, he began to melt and shape iron. His hands moved fluidly. The glow of the hot metal illuminated his face, reflecting the intensity of his emotion. Each blow of the hammer on the anvil resonated like an echo of his determination.

As he worked, his thoughts intertwined with memories of the twins in the veil. He remembered their laughter, their unwavering loyalty, and the way they had stood by him in his darkest hour. This day marked not only their ascension, but also the fulfillment of a silent promise Narinder had made to himself: to give them a great destiny, worthy of those who had shared his suffering.

Time passed without Narinder noticing. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in warm hues, and the first crowing of the rooster echoed in the distance. For Narinder, this was a new dawn in more ways than one. Today, the entire cult would witness the beginning of a new era.

Narinder worked with an almost supernatural intensity, and in record time managed to forge a pair of flawless metal swords. Each hammer blow resonated with precision and determination, shaping perfectly balanced blades. He took his time hardening them, dipping them in oil as the steam filled the air with a shrill hiss. Then he added delicate engravings to the blades – patterns that reinforced the metal's structure and were also symbols of protection. These swords weren't just weapons; they were an extension of his faith and devotion.

When he was finished, Narinder looked at his work with pride. The swords shone with a soft glow in the dawn light. There was no room for mistakes, not today.

Then for the first time in a long time, Narinder allowed himself to stop for a moment and watch. He saw the cultists coming out of their houses, yawning and preparing to work in the fields, the kitchen, or their assigned tasks. Some exchanged greetings as they walked, and others simply headed off to their destination calmly. It was a simple, everyday sight, but Narinder smiled to himself. He had learned to value these small moments; even the most monotonous things could contain beauty.

He headed to the missionaries' hut, where he organized two backpacks. Each contained carefully selected rations: dry bread, fresh fruit, water, and basic tools. He also added some protective talismans that he had personally blessed. Nothing should be left to chance.