Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 184: The Phantom Predator Part 2

Ramael took a deep breath before continuing his tale.

"Then, after descending that hill, everything began to shake. I felt the vibration in my bones before I saw it on the ground. The air grew thick, suffocating, and an unnatural silence devoured the sound of carnage behind me. The moonlight dimmed for an instant, as if the sky itself were shaking. Then, the ground cracked, and a pool of black ichor emerged, bubbling with a stench of war and old blood. From its depths emerged Shamura."

Narinder, who until then had maintained a neutral expression, felt his fur suddenly stand on end. He couldn't help it. Not when he heard that name. Not when the image of his own brother came back to his mind like an unwelcome ghost. His tail lashed tensely, but he forced himself not to interrupt. Ramael was someone he cared about, though every word he had about Shamura lit a bitter fire inside him.

"Shamura appeared before me," Ramael continued, his tone lower, almost reverent. "He was a living shadow with multiple eyes glowing in the darkness, watching me with a curiosity that chilled my blood. I could only fall to my knees. I felt the weight of his presence, a power that enveloped me like an anvil. I clutched my mask tightly, as if by doing so I could erase my identity, as if I could trick him into not seeing me for what I was... a young, helpless ram."

Narinder closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His claws tightened against the fabric of his robes.

"Five became four," Shamura said, his voice like a thousand overlapping whispers. He analyzed me, studying me like an object of passing interest. I felt caught in his gaze, naked before his judgment. Then he spoke again:

'I know what you are and I understand what you are. Join my faith, be part of the war cult. You will live a long life. I only ask that you continue to do what you have done.'

I felt one of his paws lift my chin, the blade of his paw touching my mask with an almost... affectionate touch. He observed my disguise carefully and sentenced:

'You will live for me. You will find more settlements. But if my brothers discover you, I will not intervene to save you. Still, I grant you authority so that no follower of the Old Faith doubts your words.'

At that moment I was no longer a ram. That god did not see me as part of the taboo species. He saw me as a wolf. A sheep hunter. And it was easy... so easy... to accept his offer."

The silence that followed was oppressive.

Narinder finally spoke, his voice dripping with venom.

"Shamura is trash. "He's worse than any traitor. I don't care if the one in your world is different from mine, he's just a manipulative spider."

Ramael nodded, but his voice still held that raspy tone, the echo of the predator inside him.

"I knew perfectly well," he admitted. "Maybe I could have accepted at the time and then run away, never to be found... but that wouldn't have changed anything. I was tired of surviving. I wanted to live. And so, Ramael the ram was no more. Only the mask remained. And the phantom predator became my face."

His gaze gleamed in the gloom.

"My methodology was simple. I posed as a lost ram, one who found refuge in a new flock. I gained its trust, learned its numbers, its habits, its escape routes. Then, when I knew all I needed to know, I took the information back to the Old Faith. Each new settlement was a hunt foretold, and I was its herald.

It didn't matter how many times I did it. No one suspected me. No one doubted my words. Even if I had to build a new mask each time I began a hunt, I would throw off the old one and repeat the cycle.