Savage Divinity

The knots in my metaphysical shoulders melt away as I clinch my little brother in an astral bear hug. “It’s so good to see you,” I say, almost giddy with relief. “Responsive that is. As much as I enjoy having a captive audience, I was starting to worry. With everything that happened and how you were acting, I couldn’t help but imagine the worst. Like what if the Spectres were tied to your life force, or if Blobby ate part of your brain, or... yea. A few more days and I was gonna try kissing you awake, like in those stories I used to tell Lin. Woo, look at me, I’m shaking with relief and rambling here. Sorry. How you feeling?”

“I’ve been better, but I’ll live.” Stony faced and apprehensive, Baledagh turns away to stare at the carvings in the ceiling, avoiding conversation. “These look familiar.”

“They’re from the pagoda in the village.”

“Ah, I see it now.” After a brief pause, Baledagh says, “So, time’s wasting. Let’s do this.”

A small trace of panic surges through me, worried he’s still suicidal and want’s my help to end things. “Do what?”

“To check if the civilians are Defiled. We’re leaving in the morning yea? So we should get to it.”

Patting the bed, I gesture for him to take a seat. “Oh good, you heard everything, but that's not why I'm glad you're back. They can wait. We should talk.” How do I delicately broach the subject of his mental health? “So... still suicidal?”

Wow. Real delicate. Subtle as a brick.

Unfazed by the question, Baledagh takes a seat beside me, gazing out the window at the fake village below. I’m proud of it, except I never got the hang of making fake people though. I figured since Demons are so great at making interactive illusionary worlds, it should come naturally to me, but it didn’t work out in practice. Even making static objects take a decent amount of time and energy, the intricate ceiling taking the longest to complete. If I concentrate, I can control my little puppet animals and even people if I wanted to, but it's stilted and uncanny, plus it all falls apart the moment I lose focus. The best I can do is make them ‘breathe’ on their own, making them seem like they’re asleep. Anything more than that takes too much effort. Too bad everything disappears after I leave, but I don’t mind. It’s kinda soothing crafting a world in the void, making it a little nicer for Baledagh while I’m here.

Taking his silence as confirmation, I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him in close. “I get it. It’s difficult to talk about. Back in the mines, every morning I’d wake up and wish I was dead. Do you remember our time there?”

“Sort of. Bits and pieces mostly, but it never felt real, like being stuck in an unending nightmare. Anything before the mines is even worse, a jumble of disjointed emotions rather than actual memories.”

That actually explains a lot. He was always there, just sleeping. Or hiding. Or maybe I pushed him away. Too many unanswered questions. “What about our rescue? Do you remember being picked up by Alsantset, or Baatar’s inquiry, or Taduk’s treatment?”

“...Not really. I remember the slaughter at the mines and killing the pig though. That was vivid, real, like I was physically there. I enjoyed it.”

“Yea, me too...” Look at us, a bloodthirsty, vengeful pair of brothers. “I’m sorry.”

Baledagh scoffs. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’ve robbed you of so many experiences. I used to think we were one and the same person, but I’ve been hogging all the good parts, the love, the family, the friends, and leaving you to experience life second-handed. It’s not fair.”

“You couldn’t have known. Hell, I didn’t even know.” Shaking his head, Baledagh sighs. “Ours is a strange existence. Do you think we're one soul split in two or two souls joined together?”

Oh boy. Here we go, the point of no return. “The latter, I’m afraid. Sorry I never told you before, but I have memories of another life in a different world.”

Readying myself for an explosion of rage and fury, Baledagh takes a handful of seconds to let my world-shattering confession sink in before answering, “Oh.”

...

“That’s it? Not gonna lie, I was expecting more of a reaction.”

“It’s no big deal. We established long ago you know things I don’t. But what makes you so sure we’re two separate souls? If you have memories of another life, then that means souls reincarnate right? What if 'we' are your reincarnation?”

“...I think my brain just exploded.” Theology is confusing.

Minutes pass in silence as we sit side by side, working to untangle the mysteries of rebirth and reincarnation, and Baledagh is first to speak. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, we’re brothers.”

He says it so convincingly, so decisively, a lump forms in my throat as I croak, “Forever and always brother.”

“What sort of memories do you have?”

“Nothing substantial, mostly a sense of wrongness, that things should be different, but I can’t exactly pinpoint how, not consciously. Sometimes I think of things and know what they’re used for, but not how to make them or anything useful so far. A lot of fragmented memories that make little sense, taunting me with ignorance. Oh and every now and then weird phrases pop into my head without thinking, but besides that, all I’ve got is my name, [Rayne].”

“Dumb name. One character? Then again, Falling Rain doesn't sound much better.”

“It’s your name too you know.”

“You’re Falling Rain. I’m Baledagh, a handsome young man with a heroic name. You wouldn't stand a chance, so this life, these accomplishments, they all belong to you. I’m just along for the ride.”

I see he's picking up some of my colloquialisms. “You’re my brother and at least half of this life is yours. Hell, probably more since we can know you were here first. We’ll take turns, share everything.” Well, almost everything. He needs to find his own Waifus, but I'll help.

“No.” Pulling away, he looks me in the eye, his resolve unwavering. “Be honest Brother. You can kill me any time you want, can’t you?” Reading me like a book, he doesn’t wait for an answer as he nods, the matter settled in his mind. “The strong thrive, the weak survive. This life is yours, you’ve earned it a dozen times over.”

Stubborn as a mule, my half-hearted protests do nothing to sway him as I’m secretly flooded with relief, which gives way to guilt, which is chipped away by relief, and so on and so forth. It’s a vicious cycle. I suppose I’ll have to find Baledagh a body or trick him into sharing this one. Ugh, life is never easy, but I’m glad he’s back. “We’ll figure it out as we go, a work in progress. For now, let’s go check on Dastan and his people. Lead the way.”

My suggestion is met with suspicion as Baledagh tries to figure out my angle. “I thought we just established that this is your life. Why can’t you do it?”

“Remember? You can't detect Defiled while tucked away in the void, so you’re front and centre on this. I’ll tell you the plan as we go and you can use the walk over to acclimate yourself. It’s been awhile since you’ve worn the meat-suit.”

Not even a hint of a smile, though my words earn me a long-suffering eye-roll. “Fine.” After a moment’s concentration, Baledagh’s astral body disappears from the void as he steps in to control.

Propping myself up with a few pillows, I turn the window in front of me into a screen, showing what Baledagh sees. Laying in bed, he stares down at a snoring Aurie, the wildcat’s head resting on our chest. Smiling at the adorable sight, I watch in silence at Baledagh chokes up, stroking Aurie’s whiskers to gently wake him. With fluttering eyelids, the big floofball comes awake wearing a big kitty smile. Before he sits up, I tell Baledagh to say “Boop”.

Hearing his new favourite word, Aurie’s ears perk up as he gently headbutts Baledagh. Rubbing cheeks with the affectionate wildcat, my little brother laughs for the first time in weeks.

We don’t have a perfect life, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I’ll work hard until Baledagh feels the same way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a quiet, last meal with his extended family, Dastan retired to the bedroom with a heavy heart. Uncle Diyako and his friends were unable to come up with anything of value, and come morning, Falling Rain would have every unbound citizen executed. There was nothing anyone could do about it, and the worst part was, no matter how hard Dastan tried, he couldn’t hate Rain for it. Were their roles reversed, Dastan would do the same without batting an eye. No matter how kind or compassionate, no one in the world would willingly sacrifice their family for a band of strangers. Such was life.

Crying into his pillows, Dastan mourned his family as lost, dreading the morning sun. He wanted to take up his axe and hack his way out, to go down fighting to protect his loved ones, but his Oath denied him the chance. He’d given himself to a life of slavery for the mere chance of saving everyone, but all he did was buy his family a peaceful death. Perhaps even now, Bekhai warriors slipped into their rooms silent and unseen, offering sweet mercy with a blade in the night.

This was the best he could hope for, to have them go in their sleep, every man, woman, and child sent into the arms of the Mother.

Three heavy blows rang out at the door sending Dastan into a panic. Terrified of what lay beyond, he trembled from head to toe as he opened the door to find Rain, cold and aloof. Eyes widening momentarily, his lip curled in disgust as he muttered, “No surprise.” As if crying over the deaths of your loved ones was so horrible a thing. Striding into the room, Rain's men followed him in carrying a copper tub and buckets of water to fill it. Glaring at Dastan the whole while, he said nothing until the tub was filled, calling over his shoulder as he strode out into the dark hallway, “Take off your shirt. I’ll be back soon.”

Panicked cries and pleas sounded out from the borrowed manor, the unbound commoners herded towards their execution. So cruel and sadistic to pull them from their sleep, inciting terror for no reason. Anger and revulsion surged through Dastan as he disrobed, standing naked in front of the tub. So Falling Rain wasn’t the man Dastan thought he was. In the past two weeks, he’d watched over his new master carefully, and while he never had sex, he freely embraced any man or woman that would let him. Sitting in bed with Fung, wrapping an arm around Huushal as they ate, holding hands with Gerel as they stared into each others eyes, it was clear Rain’s tastes swung both ways.

Not that it mattered, who Rain lay with was no concern to Dastan, so long as they were willing participants, but this... only a monster would force himself on Dastan after slaughtering his family. Perhaps Rain was warped by war and bloodshed, unable to be aroused without death and slaughter. It made sense seeing as Rain spared Dastan that first day, complaining of his ‘useless blob’. Dastan could only imagine what horrors awaited him, forced to endure while Rain tortures his family before his eyes, only to be taken from behind while staring at the tattered remains of his loved ones...

Why bother? Why keep fighting?

Rain strode through the door with a frown, thankfully alone and without a single bloodstain. “I told you to take off your shirt. Why are you naked? Put your pants on.”

Cheeks aflame with embarrassment and rage, he pulled his trousers back up and tied them tight, baffled beyond all belief. Too disciplined to ask questions, he watched as Rain looked him up and down, like one would view a meat, placing a stool at one end of the tub. “Sit,” he ordered, and Dastan obeyed without thought. Placing one palm on his chest and the other on his back, Rain roughly lowered him into the tub. “Lean back and hold your breath,” he added, as if it were needed.

Before he pieced together half a thought, Dastan’s rage was ripped away by the icy cold waters, leaving him a hollow shell of who he was. A silent calm overtook him as the water washed over his submerged head, clearing his mind and leaving him wondering how he could ever suspect Rain of such wanton cruelty. He’d never given any indication of being more than he appeared, a calm, considerate, talented young warrior who fought like the devil to keep his people safe.

There was never even a hint of cruelty or maliciousness to him, so why was Dastan always imagining the worst?

Weak and disoriented, Dastan gasped for air as Rain pulled him back up. Clutching his chest, Dastan recoiled at the sharp, burning pain in his lungs, watching as an ugly, purple bruise spread across his lower ribs. His bones ached as he sat in place, as if he’d been trampled by a bull lit on fire. Staring into Rain’s amber eyes, Dastan watched as the chilly indifference melted into warm concern. “Slow, deep breaths,” he said, wrapping a towel around Dastan’s shoulders. “Embrace the pain, accept it, make it a part of you.”

“What-what happened?” Dastan asked, his teeth chattering and body shivering.

“These are your injuries from the battle.” Eyeing his ribs with a rueful chuckle, Rain added, “I guess Fung’s manservant smacked you pretty good. Probably cracked a rib or two, maybe even broke the tip. That’s never pleasant.”

“Why? How?” The battle was more than twenty days ago, how were these injuries only surfacing now?

Rain’s voice sounded in Dastan’s head. “Don’t speak. You were... Tainted, for lack of a better word.” Rain can Send?! “Not exactly Defiled, but close. You know the stories about the Father’s Avatars of anger and hatred, destruction and wrath? There’s at least some truth to them. You’ve been drawing power from them and they’ve been helping you mask your pain. They’re gone now, so you’re feeling the full effect. Good news is you’re not gonna die, but you’re not going to enjoy the next few days jostling around a wagon. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to Heal your injuries and retrain you from the beginning if necessary.”

While treating Dastan’s injuries, Rain explained everything through Sending, which explained all the hand-holding. The teachings Dastan relied on until now were nothing but lies and deceit, drawing him closer to the Father’s Maw each day. His reliance on anger and fury left him on the edge of imbalance and ready to become Defiled. His entire retinue was the same and likely many of their family members, but Rain was blessed by the Heavens and in possession of a Tear of the Mother, the aforementioned Blobby. For the past two weeks, he’d worked in secret to master its usage, and now, after a breakthrough, he used it to cleanse the Defiled Taint from Dastan’s body, leaving him weakened, but free. After this, he would do the same for Dastan’s family, his retinue’s family, any of the Militia who might be tainted, and bring them to the Bridge. Alive.

Unless they were too far gone. Not even the Mother’s Tear could help those.

“Keep this a secret,” Rain said as he stood to leave.

“Why,” Dastan whispered, filled with wonder and reverence. “Why hide your gift? The Shrike might have listened and you’d save so many lives...”

“I didn’t discover Blobby until after the Purge, during the battle for Sanshu, but I’ll reveal it if necessary. Major Yuzhen knows the details because Gerel couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Whatever, it works out, so if a Purge seems likely, she’ll send word and I’ll reveal everything. I’d rather not though, I’d like to live a long, peaceful life with my family. Welp, there’s like 300 more people to go through, so I’m gonna leave now. Rest easy.” Closing the door behind him, Rain left Dastan alone with his thoughts.

Closing his eyes, he channelled the Energy of the Heavens and whispered a prayer. “Thank you Merciful Mother for guiding your wayward servant back to the light. I was blind but now I see. I, Dastan Zhandos, under no duress, freely and readily pledge my life in defence of Falling Rain.” The words said, nothing changed, but his slave’s Oath no longer weighed him down. In its place was a new purpose, a divine mission, the holiest of duties.

It would be his honour to serve the Mother’s Chosen Son, Falling Rain.

Chapter Meme