Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 200 Apple Cider

NOTE: Wattpad only lets me post 200 chapters so the story will continue at the following link https://www.wattpad.com/1537120230-chains-of-vengeance-pt-2-chapter-201-determination

Meanwhile, at the service, Narinder lay face down on the bed. The sheets were disheveled, still retaining the warmth of the previous night. Breakfast had long since passed, and it would soon be time for lunch. An hourglass floated on the nightstand.The god of death rested his cheek on his arm, his red eyes staring at the grains of black sand descending with exasperating slowness.He missed the ram. He missed him so much that his chest ached.But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a long, drawn-out "Ahhh..." coming from the corner of the room. It was Goliath, who had just finished his fourth glass of water.The sound of glass against the table was followed by heavy footsteps. The large goat sank down beside him with a contented sigh and glanced at the clock."Looking at it like that won't make time move any faster," Goliath said, stretching his arms with unabashed laziness.On Narinder's other side, Lambert lay, his hair still disheveled but already a little more rested. He settled carefully beside him and looked at his clock as well."We all have our process when we wait for something," he commented soothingly, stroking Narinder's arm.Narinder let out a guttural, frustrated growl. He didn't need to speak: his expression said it all. He wanted the ram already."You've already waited eight hours, what's the point of waiting another two?" Lambert added, trying to cheer him up.Goliath stretched proudly, cracking his back as if he were a rock creature."But those first six hours of waiting were certainly wild," he said suggestively. Then, without warning, he gently bit Narinder's ear.The god blushed to the tips of his ears, but didn't complain. He barely emitted a muffled moan."Nari," Lambert said, "let's go out for a while. Walk around a bit, get some fresh air. It wouldn't hurt to distract yourself for these two hours.""Hey, lamb," Goliath interrupted with a sly smile, "you can go if you want, but if Narinder wants to stay here in bed, doing nothing... he can. And I'll gladly join him in his sweet sin of laziness."To punctuate his point, he gave Narinder a slow, cheeky lick, causing him to blush even more, visibly flushed by the goat's display of dominance. Still, he sighed somewhat happily, feeling pampered."I get into a lot of conflict if one of us asks for something the other doesn't want," Narinder murmured, his voice lazily trailing off. "Well, I want to please both of us..."He stretched like a cat, slow, graceful, and reluctant to stand, but beginning to sit up with resignation.Narinder finally stood, albeit with an elegant laziness that seemed part of a ritual. He stretched his body gracefully and let his feet touch the cold floor. He walked calmly to the coat rack and picked up his robe. He put it on with a fluid movement, letting the heavy fabric settle over his shoulders like a cloak of authority.Lambert, who was watching him with a small smile, broke the silence:"Good! Many cultists always cheer up when they see their god walking. We could go and break in the sauna, if you'd like."Narinder, adjusting the clasp on his robe, murmured thoughtfully:"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go see how the cult is going... I could check on the crops..."From the bed, still sprawled on the rumpled sheets, Goliath raised his head with a sly smile."Well, I want to go get a beer!" he exclaimed in a mocking and malicious tone, although deep down he already had a clear plan: to get drunk until he vomited like a goat with no self-control.Narinder gave an amused smile, turning to him."Well... how about we go see how the cider is coming along?"Lambert nodded enthusiastically:"Oh, of course! Bathin has been working hard. She's certainly a great chef who...""It would be more fun if the drinks were already ready," Goliath interrupted reluctantly. But they're just barrels fermenting...Narinder took Goliath's purple cloak from the back of a chair, along with its silver bell, and approached him with an expression somewhere between playful and dangerous. He handed them to him slowly."Well, let's see how that purple frog's work is going. If it's anything bad... we could punish it. And if I remember correctly... didn't you want to use a whip?"Goliath's eyes widened immediately, like a child offered a new toy. His excitement was palpable."Oh! I certainly want to be able to implement that punishment!" he exclaimed, almost trembling with excitement. He briskly grabbed his cloak, put it on, jingled the bell, and hurriedly, laughingly, left the room.Lambert, who witnessed the entire scene, followed him with his eyes and then turned to Narinder with a mixture of concern and resignation."Are you really going to let Goliath whip Bathin?"Narinder calmly placed his red cloak on the lamb, gently adjusting the golden bell around its neck."Don't worry," he said serenely. "Batin witnessed my sister Heket. I'm sure she did an excellent job making the cider.""And if not?" Lambert asked, still staring at the door through which Goliath had disappeared.Narinder shrugged with a complete lack of guilt."Well... I'll let my pretty goat take it out on that poor frog's back. But these are minor details. Besides, I didn't whip Goliath."Lambert smiled nervously, imagining the chaos that was coming for the poor purple frog.And so, the two left the house together, the sun gently caressing the stone path in front of them and the fresh air of the cult infused with yeast, herbs, and a hint of mischief.Narinder walked out of the house holding Lambert's hand. The morning breeze caressed his robes as the sun illuminated the cult gardens with a soft, golden warmth. In front of them, Goliath stood on the stone flags, wielding a long, dark leather whip. With precise movements, he cracked it through the air, causing sharp, menacing cracks that made some cultists jump as they passed by.The whip hissed like a snake every time he swung it, and the muscles in his arms stood out with every twist and turn. It was clear he wasn't just practicing—he was enjoying every moment.Narinder frowned, slightly surprised, and murmured softly to Lambert,"Um... where did he get the whip?""I don't know," Lambert replied, looking at the scene curiously. "I just saw it."Goliath noticed them and smiled proudly. He coiled the whip with an elegant twist and held it as if it were a work of art."How about it?" he said boastfully. "I made this beauty myself."Narinder raised an eyebrow, skeptical."Huh? And you really know how to use a whip?"Goliath feigned indignation. With a look of arrogance, he uncoiled the whip in a single motion. In a swift and elegant gesture, he swung it toward Narinder with extreme precision, causing it to wrap delicately around his neck, forcing him to lean slightly forward.With the whip still firmly in his hands, Goliath stared at him with a mixture of desire and authority."Of course I can use it perfectly," he declared in a deep voice, each word imbued with dominance.Narinder felt a chill run down his spine. His cheeks instantly flushed, and for a second his divinity seemed to surrender to the sheer rudeness of the goat. It felt like his heart was pounding in his stomach, and his legs trembled slightly, unable to firmly bear the weight of that sudden emotion.With a nervous smile, he stammered,"O-of course you can use the whip..."Goliath arrogantly released him, letting the whip glide smoothly, as if he had been granted an exclusive honor.Narinder slowly sat up, trying to regain his composure, though his heart was still pounding.Lambert, who had watched everything silently, let out a playful, knowing chuckle."Heh... it seems our god has developed a new taste..."Narinder cleared his throat, trying to hide the blush that still stained his cheeks after the encounter with the whip."Goliath, let's not waste any more time and go check Bathin's work," he said with feigned seriousness, clearly looking for an excuse to change the subject.Goliath let out a mocking laugh."Wasting time? But that was exactly the idea!" he snorted mockingly, tilting his head. "Or are you that desperate to see that damn mud-flecked ram?"The jealous tone didn't go unnoticed. Goliath was trying to discredit the ram by using its wool color as a weapon.But Narinder blushed even more, but far from denying it, he admitted it with a dreamy smile."Well... yes, its wool looks like mud," he said in a soft, almost rapturous voice. "That grayish-brown hue makes my heart race... its beauty is unique... and those large, curly horns..."As he spoke, he hugged Lambert tightly, as if the mere thought of the ram enveloped him in a wave of tenderness he needed to channel. Lambert, amidst soft laughter and a slightly blue face, allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his god's affection, though he clearly had some trouble breathing."Mhhff... I'm glad you're so inspired..." he murmured, his voice somewhat strained.Goliath rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed by the scene."Yes, yes, let's go..." he said with a theatrical sigh.Without letting go of Lambert, Narinder began to walk, carrying him in his arms like a giant stuffed animal. The way he held him made his feet brush the ground, so Lambert was practically dragged along, laughing and sighing.Goliath, not wanting to be left behind or be less pampered, came up behind him and threw himself at Narinder's back with all his weight, hugging him by the shoulders. He wrapped his arms around the god like a living backpack, letting his legs dangle and drag along the ground as they moved forward."Come on, show me how much you can carry, Almighty..." he whispered playfully near his ear.Narinder let out a small gasp from the effort, but didn't complain. Although moving forward became more difficult, he accepted the load with dignity. After all, the lamb and goat were his pride and joy, and he didn't mind the curious and amused glances of the cultists who watched them pass by on the cult's paths.With Lambert clutched to his chest and Goliath slung over his back, he advanced step by step until he finally reached the cellar, just behind the beer garden. The air smelled of fermented wood, sweet fruit, and recent labor.Narinder carefully lowered them, preparing to taste the long-awaited cider.Reaching the cellar behind the beer garden, Narinder carefully lowered his two companions. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood, fermented fruit, and a subtle hint of herbs. Between the barrels, on a makeshift seat made from an upturned crate, Bathin, a purple-skinned frog, slept soundly, legs crossed and head tilted back. His rhythmic, sonorous breathing filled the room with small, wet snores.Goliath narrowed his eyes, a sadistic grin on his face. He slowly uncoiled his whip, twirled it once in the air, and slashed it hard on the ground. The sound cut through the room with a dry crash, like leather thunder.The crash jolted Bathin awake, causing her to jump and fall backward off her chair, her limbs flailing clumsily. She sat up instantly, visibly flustered, blinking in fear at the sight of the towering goat brandishing a whip."Sleeping on duty, huh?" Goliath said arrogantly, taking a step forward."II just closed my eyes for a minute..." Bathin justified herself, rubbing her eyes, trembling.Lambert instinctively took a step toward her, but Narinder held him firmly in his arms, stopping him before he could intervene. In a low voice, he whispered in his ear:"Let's see what happens... I trust the goat's judgment."Goliath narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms in a superior gesture."And on top of that, snoring... don't you know that snoring is disrespectful to those around you? You're a nuisance."Lambert and Narinder, still embracing, felt a chill run down their spines. In unison, they bit their lower lips, and without even looking at each other, shared the same thought: "We must never... tell him that he snores too, and very loudly."Then Goliath raised the whip and lashed it through the air again with a vibrant crack."I want you to show us your progress," he ordered, enjoying the power emanating from his dominant stance.Batin, with quick, nervous steps, brought the first barrel. With trembling hands, he poured three small glasses of the cider."Th-this barrel was a request from the goat," he said, trying to sound professional. "A cider with more alcohol... I used apple... and hops for extra strength."Narinder gently released Lambert and took one of the glasses. He studied the liquid: it was a paler white than he expected. It fizzed intensely, and the aroma was strong, intoxicating. He took a sip, and his expression hardened slightly. The flavor was well-crafted, but the alcohol level was too intense for his liking.He was about to speak, but before he could utter a single word, a loud and impassioned:"Ahhhhhh!" echoed through the cellar.Goliath raised his glass enthusiastically, licking his lips."Hell, yes! This was what I was looking for! That burn in the throat and the apple flavor... I can't wait to drink the whole barrel myself!"With a burst of enthusiasm, he slapped Bathin on the back... almost sending her flying.Lambert, for his part, drank in silence, savoring carefully. Although he said nothing, his eyes shone with anxiety, clearly eager to compete with the goat for control of the barrel.Narinder smiled contentedly."Good. This barrel is well made," he stated.Once Bathin recovered from the blow, he cleared his throat and poured the next glass for each of them. This time, the liquid was a bright pink, almost translucent."For this barrel, I used the ripest grapes," he explained proudly. "The apple paired perfectly."All three took a sip at the same time. Goliath savored it with a slight grimace. It was sweet, very sweet... too sweet for his taste. It wasn't what he was looking for, though he couldn't deny that it was well made.Lambert, on the other hand, was ecstatic. His ears twitched with joy at the sugary flavor."Give me another taste?" he asked with a hopeful smile."I'm sorry... it still needs to ferment more," Bathin replied politely, shaking her head.Narinder, meanwhile, took his time enjoying the cider. Smooth, fruity, with a balanced sweetness. He couldn't remember tasting it like this in the past. In the old days, he'd only had it out of obligation, at Leshy's feasts or Heket's banquets. This was the first time he'd truly enjoyed it.He smiled, a genuine and calm expression on his face."You've really done a good job, Bathin."The frog lowered its head humbly, happy to receive praise from its god... though it was still a little trembling from the goat.Bathin, excited to show off the final result, poured three more glasses from the last barrel. This one contained natural cider, the simplest and most traditional kind. The liquid was a shimmering golden hue, with small, lively bubbles that danced as if celebrating their very existence. It was a clean, bright drink, with a pure aroma of freshly picked apples.Goliath didn't hesitate for a second. He took his glass and drank it in one gulp, hiding his true intention: he was looking to get drunk, even though he knew three glasses of cider wouldn't be enough to achieve that goal.Lambert, on the other hand, drank calmly. The bubbles tickled his tongue and made him chuckle softly. He found the natural effervescence amusing, but he took his time to savor it.Narinder raised the glass with visible emotion. There was something about the golden color that reminded him of liquid gold, and the aroma was so perfect that it seemed to envelop him with an almost sacred feeling. He took a sip with delight... and then, his expression changed.His face darkened.That tasted exactly like something he'd thought he'd forgotten.He remembered it...The scene surfaced vividly in his mind: millennia ago, in Shamura's library. He was sitting, reading an ancient book, accompanied by his brother. They spoke of divine trivia, rituals, the world. Small things... things that no longer existed.And he saw it.The last morning before being sealed, everything had begun like a normal day. He walked through the halls of the main temple, the air as cold as ever. He gave orders, blessed his followers, maintained the routine. Then, as usual, he went to visit Shamura.But he wasn't there.He found only a bottle of cider on the table, with two empty cups. Angrily, Narinder drank directly from the bottle. A golden cider, bubbly, sweet. A trivial sip... which ended up being the last taste he would remember before centuries of solitude.A note, left on the table by Shamura, asked to meet later somewhere else. And after that... nothing. The betrayal. The seal. The oblivion.Narinder returned to the present as if he had been violently swept away by a sea of ​​memories. He stood still, stunned, staring at his glass as if it had become the cruelest of poisons.Then, his hand tensed involuntarily. The glass fell from his fingers, crashing to the floor with a dry clatter. The cider spilled, staining the floor like golden blood.The atmosphere in the cellar became tense and silent.Narinder was livid. He was breathing rapidly, his eyes wide with horror. Disordered thoughts gnawed at him from within. He was the one who had asked for the apples. He was the one who had revived Bathin for the sole purpose of creating the cider. It was he who had been looking forward to this drink... and it was he who never imagined that this sip would bring back a memory he had locked away deep inside.The cider.It turned out to be the last sweet thing before his hell.Goliath and Lambert stared at him blankly, worried. Narinder panted."I... I have to go..." he muttered in a broken voice, and hurried out of the cellar, as if fleeing an invisible demon.The silence grew even thicker.Goliath gritted his teeth, furious. His hands gripped the whip tightly as he began to stride purposefully toward Bathin. His gaze was a mixture of frustration and suppressed anger.Lambert noticed and nervously stood between him and the frog, determined to stay.He wasn't going to let Goliath do something crazy to poor Bathin.—Narinder ran. The air burned his lungs, and the pressure in his chest made it difficult to breathe. His heart pounded violently, and each step resonated like a hammer against the floor.His thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. Anxiety gripped him like an invisible noose. His head throbbed with a sharp pain, as if thorns had been driven into his skull.He reached the temple and, without pausing, slammed the door with such force that the echoes resonated throughout the room. He slammed it shut behind him and bolted it. No one was to see him.He dropped to his knees in the center of the hall and, panting, brought his hands to his head. He began to scratch himself desperately, tearing out small strands of his fine black fur. They fell like ash to the floor.He screamed with suppressed fury and jumped to his feet, staggering toward a shelf of figurines dedicated to himself and the Red Crown. He glared at them with contempt and slashed at them with his arm, knocking them over. The sacred porcelain figurines shattered on the floor.He began destroying everything in his path.Candles. Scrolls. Tapestries. Ritual ornaments.He took the heavy tithe box in both hands and lifted it above his head, then slammed it against the floor again and again until it shattered, scattering coins, gems, and sacred dust all over the floor.Panting, his eyes bloodshot, he began to grunt and talk to himself, as if his mind was fractured."Why?!" he screamed. "Why haven't you gotten over it?!"He ran toward one of the colorful stained-glass windows and smashed it with his bare fist, shattering the glass with a nightmarish crash. Blood dripped from his hand, but he didn't even notice."You're free now! You should be happy! It's exhausting to keep doing this!" he howled, shattering another statuette with a brutal blow.His words grew more erratic, more broken."The last thing... the last thing I tasted was that damn cider in Shamura's room... If I had known... if I had known, I would have tried something better! No! If I had known, I would never have gone to see my brothers that day..."He collapsed onto a bench, covering his face with his hands. He clutched his head so tightly that his fingers trembled. He thought and thought... If I hadn't drunk that cider, I wouldn't have seen the note. If I hadn't seen the note, I wouldn't have gone. If I hadn't gone... maybe nothing would have happened.But he knew it was a lie.His doom would have come anyway. Maybe another day. Maybe in another way. But his brothers had already decided."They hated me!" he whispered with a laugh that chilled his blood. "They were jealous of me... Jealous of my power... But now they're sealed. Now they can't do anything to me!"His laughter grew higher, broken, demented. He scratched his wrists anxiously, right over the scars that had never quite healed."But why did I ask for cider...?" he said softly, like a confused child. "Why did I go to such lengths to get that drink again?"He staggered to his feet, speaking only in a raspy voice."Did you want to punish me...? To remember the worst day of my life...? Why...? Why...? Why!?"Then something snapped him out of his spiral.He reached into his robes and pulled out the black hourglass. He stared at it with wide eyes, a mixture of madness, anxiety, and anxious excitement."Yes! I must get it out now!"But upon closer inspection, he saw there was still a little over an hour left until it was complete.Frustrated, he tossed the hourglass aside, where it rolled and stopped with a hollow sound.Narinder then pulled out the relic: a deep red claw, wrapped in colorful chains. Each link seemed made of a different metal, one more beautiful and menacing than the next.His trembling fingers obsessively stroked one chain in particular: one of blue platinum with an almost spectral sheen."My beautiful ram..." he whispered, with a sickly sweetness. "I know I told you ten hours... but I can't take it anymore..."He gripped the blue chain tightly. He tried to break it.But it wouldn't break.Narinder frowned in surprise. He hadn't expected this. He took a deep breath and tried again.Nothing.A third try. A fourth. His fingers began to ache. Minutes passed. Sweat trickled down his forehead. And the chain... was still intact.Narinder was sweating. His breathing was labored, ragged, as if air refused to fully enter his lungs. His heart pounded, pounding against his ribs like a beast desperate to escape. Anxiety soaked his skin and clouded his judgment. He was trembling. Not from the cold, but from the terror of what was coming.It had been easily half an hour since he'd tried, with all his will, to free Ramael from the Veil... without success.He couldn't believe it. He'd never imagined the seal would be truly difficult to break. Only then, between gasps, did he realize something disturbing: he'd never, not once, broken a seal on his own."Okay... pull yourself together... calm down," he murmured in a tremulous voice, trying to force his logic to overcome his panic. "You just have to think about it from another perspective..."He compulsively scratched the scars on his wrists, so anxiously that his fine black fur was beginning to fall out in clumps. The ground was slowly being covered with those fragments of his body, as if he himself were slowly dissolving."One thing I know for sure is that a seal can be broken..." His voice broke, but he continued speaking as if it could hold on to his sanity. "I am living proof of that." I was sealed by four gods... this is only the seal of one... of mine.He clenched his jaw so tightly that his teeth began to grind. The trembling of his jaw was barely perceptible, but constant, threatening."I sealed the ram because he asked me to... and because I knew, deep down, I could free him. I must be able to!"His gaze was fixed, almost crazed, as he turned the relic in his hands. A heavy, red claw, covered in colorful chains.His breathing remained erratic."Let's see... let's see... comparisons! The lamb... defeated the bishops. And after each victory... a chain that imprisoned me broke. So I must look at it from that angle..."His fingers trembled as he caressed the chains."I avoided using my own life as an anchor for the seal for my own safety." But the relic... the relic isn't alive, technically...An absurd, dangerous thought crossed his mind like a flash of lightning in a dark storm. He stopped. His eyes widened with a spark of madness and delusion."What if... I destroy my relic? Ramael is more important than an object I barely use in combat... But if I destroy it..."He caressed the other chains, a sharp sadness in his fingers."Not only would the ram be free..."He stood abruptly. He began pacing the temple, pacing like a caged beast. His frustration dominated him. He kicked the remains of statues he himself had recently destroyed, scattering the debris violently."Why did I let him go to the Fade?! I really didn't want that!"But deep down, he knew the truth: he could never deny a request from Ramael... or from his husbands. Not when he loved them so intensely and madly.With a roar of rage, he grabbed the relic and hurled it hard against the ground. The tip of his claw embedded itself in the temple stones, remaining there, like a sentence.He snarled in anger, raised his hand, and a ball of fire burned in his palm, crackling violently."Damn it!" he shouted.And without another thought, like someone throwing a stone into an abyss, he threw the fireball directly at the relic, seeking to destroy it once and for all.Fire engulfed it. A burst of light, sparks, and heat filled the room.And then... silence.