Basiliskos Idryma

Chapter 02: The Death of a God

'The world in which we live is shrouded in the murkiness of lies and deceptions. Those who offer justice and retribution are also the ones most likely to lead others to their deaths. People are not always who they seem to be. Trusting someone is a gamble. Either you will be saved, or betrayed and killed.' It was something the Derzhatel had told Belladonna in passing. And the way she recalled that in this moment felt foreboding to her. She dreaded she would end up living the latter scenario sooner or later.

"There will come a time when you will have to save someone, and you will because that is what you were created for."

In those three years she had spent under the authority of Derzhatel Minerva, there was not one moment she doubted anything she said. She lived by her teachings. But this, she could not accept as truth. That was who she was to her family, and look where it has led her. She was sold like an animal waiting to be slaughtered. She was tortured. She was once led to believe that was all what she was for—a sacrifice. It was not the path she wanted to walk through. Not anymore.

"Who are you to tell me what I am created for? God?" she retorted.

The normally dignified Derzhatel suddenly broke into a fit of laughter. She laughed. During those years that she had known the Derzhatel she had never seen her laugh, not even once. Even if it was meant to ridicule her, she laughed.

"Which god do you think created you, Belladonna?"

"Which.. god?"

The Derzhatel gave her that look. She was too familiar with it—it was the look she would always give her whenever she was about to say something that she was determined to make her understand. "Youʼre an Arcana, Belladonna. Whoever you think created you did not. There are many debates about who your kind—our kind—came from. None of the answers make sense. We don't make sense. Your god is the one who saved you, the one who's keeping you safe, the one you follow, and the one who controls you."

She mindlessly gritted her teeth. Somewhere, deep down, she had always known that. The Godfather. That was what he was to her—a god. Maybe so was the Derzhatel.

She stared at the Derzhatel as though she were staring at a statue of a god, with forlorn hope that her prayers would be heard and answered. "If I follow God, I will be saved." She recalled something her mother used to say. "That's the case with my god too, right?"

The Derzhatel did not respond immediately like she always did, and her lips quivered in hesitation. She held her eyes on Belladonna for long, as though hesitating if she should answer or not.

Meanwhile, her silence was becoming increasingly unsettling to Belladonna. Impatient, she asked her again, "Right?"

She needed assurance. Her ego would not want her to admit it, but the cruel truth was that she cannot keep herself safe on her own—not from the ones who are hunting her. She has to know that they would honor their promise to keep her safe and alive.

The Derzhatel opened her mouth to speak. Belladonna had hoped for a moment that her question would be answered, but it wasn't.

Before the Derzhatel could utter a word, someone appeared from behind the trees. One, two… three people in black cloaks, wearing silver masks with a protruding beak like a rooster's. Except for their eyes, which shone brightly in the forest's darkness, it hid practically their entire face.

Danger. That was what they looked like. Alarmed, Belladonna took a step back and reached for the dagger strapped to the rear of her belt. She was about to draw it, but the Derzhatel’s hand stopped her. Confused as to why, she turned to face her, but she just shook her head, as if telling her that they posed no harm.