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Chapter Text

The Lamb was woken up from their pleasant dreams by the complaining of Aym and Baal. They glanced up from the soft fur of Narinder’s neck to see the twins talking to Him, about… something or other. The Lamb was tired, but forced themselves to wake up and pay attention to what they were saying.

“Master, you spoil your vessel. They do not deserve your attention, and certainly not your touch.” Aym was waving his arms around dramatically as he spoke, glaring up at them on Narinder’s shoulder. The Lamb had to duck down so he didn’t notice they were awake.

“My brother is right. The Lamb has proven their worth as a weapon and warrior, but not enough that you should allow such frivolous… Behavior.” Baal seemed a little suspicious of them, most likely due to the implications of Narinder’s affection for the Lamb. They were shocked Baal had never accused them of falling for his master, nor suggested his master may have fallen for them.

“Enough, Aym, Baal. They have earned the right, as have you two. I should not hope that I detect jealousy?” Narinder’s voice boomed like thunder on a pleasant stormy day. The Lamb smiled into His neck. The twins looked away from Narinder, embarrassed, perhaps, but returned to His side without a word.

The Lamb forced themselves to get up. They enjoyed being here with Him, but they did unfortunately have work to return to at the cult. They yawned dramatically and sat up, standing on His shoulder and leaning up against His head. 

“Hi Nariiii! You know I love hanging out with you here but sadly my little cult family needs me!”

Narinder sighed, and held out His hand, which the Lamb stepped onto so they could be lowered to the ground. “I see.” He leaned down towards them, amused curiosity on His face. “What is it you called me, Lamb?”

The Lamb twirled their wool, absentmindedly thinking of Him playing with it. “Nari? It’s just a nickname. I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to, my Lord.” 

Narinder hummed as though in deep thought. “I suppose it is… acceptable. You are my most loyal disciple. It is appropriate that you feel more of a… personal connection.” The Lamb smirked at Him knowingly, and He returned the smile, His razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the foggy mistlight… a terrifying sight for almost anyone else. 

The Lamb loved it, though. Maybe it was weird, but His sharp teeth, overwhelming presence, titanic stature, thunderous voice… all of it, they found attractive. Their taste had certainly changed since obtaining the Red Crown, but they were perfectly fine with that. Being the God of Death had taught them to appreciate many things they’d never considered beautiful before, and Narinder was just one of them. 

“Well, duty calls. See you soon, Nari.” As they started to walk away, though, the Lamb felt a pang of dread in their stomach. They hated needing Him to reassure them, but they’d just feel miserable the rest of the day if not, so…

They turned back around to face Him, and spoke quietly.

“Hey, Narinder. I’d just… you are going to resurrect me after I return the Red Crown, right? I know I’m always worrying, so I apologize, but…” The Lamb looked up to Narinder, whose expression softened in sympathy. 

“I understand your trepidation, Lamb. But always remember this: The moment I am returned to the mortal world, you will be brought back to my side. I will not forget all that you have done for me, and death shall not keep you long, for you are mine alone.” He reached out His hand, and scratched their wool gently. The Lamb leaned into the touch, and sighed with relief.

“Thank you, Nari. I ask because I have located Shamura’s temple, and soon, my job will be complete.” The Lamb turned away, walking onto the teleportation circle. “Next time I see you, my lord, you will be free.”

Narinder watched The Lamb teleport back to their cult. He stared at where they had been with a shameless look of affection. Soon, he and his kids would see the mortal world’s wonders. Soon, this punishment would be over. Soon, he would be free.

For a simple moment, he was happy.

The Red Crown shook in the Lamb’s hands. Shamura was dead. Narinder and the twins stood before them, waiting for the decisive moment. The Lamb knew what they had to do. They stepped forward, their fear evaporating with proximity to their god. He loved them, and would bring them back. They remembered this, and held the Red Crown forwards, closing their eyes.

But they could not move.

The Lamb tried to raise their hands, to lift the Crown to Narinder.

But they could not move.

They focused, and nothing happened. Opening their eyes, they stared at Narinder in confusion. They tried to speak, but the words were stuck, burning, in the back of their throat.

“Lamb. Is something wrong? The time has come. Return the crown and embrace the end that awaits.” Narinder didn’t seem angry, but confused, just like they were. The twins shuffled in place awkwardly.

No

The word resonated through their skull, causing them to stumble slightly. They stood back up, but the voice spoke again.

You are worthy. You are chosen.

The Lamb felt the Red Crown in their hands shift.

They were holding a sword.

“W-What is the meaning of this, Lamb? I will not tolerate such impudence. Return the Red Crown to its righteous bearer!” He was clearly upset, but He trusted the Lamb. He could not understand what was happening.

The Lamb tried to shift the Red Crown back from a sword, but-

No. He is not worthy. You are stronger. You will fight.

Their body shifted as though on instinct, and they assumed a fighting stance. They tried to speak again, but nothing. They tried to dismiss the crown, tried to bow, but-

Now move.

The Lamb felt dizzy. They moved without thought, stepping forward towards Narinder. They tried to resist whatever force took hold of them, and-

Submit, vessel. Serve the Crown. Serve your ascension. Do what must be done.

Muscle memory and willpower fought against each other. The action of slowing down and calming themselves felt impossible, strenuous, terrifying. The sensation of jumping off a cliff and lowering a weapon switched places in their subconscious. Resisting felt futile, silly, pointless. Something sharp pressed against the back of their skull, and-

Everything went black.

-

It is done.

When the Lamb awoke, they stood in a burning landscape, a part of the afterlife they’d never visited. Their sword was held tight in their hand, lowered and held to…

Narinder’s neck??

The Lamb jumped back, and realized they could move again. They dismissed the Red Crown and stared in confusion.

Narinder seemed… mortal. And not only that, injured. The Lamb felt Ichor dripping from their hands, from their face…

They wouldn’t… they couldn’t have… 

Right?

He stared up at them with an unbridled fury, though his face shifted slightly to match the confusion of the Lamb’s expression.

The Lamb was panicking. They took a few deep breaths, and steadied themself. Did they really attack him? But… Why? Everything went dark, and something was controlling them, and-

“Do not dare to feel regret, traitorous Lamb. You have chosen the path of a vengeful usurper, and I refuse to accept hesitation, coward. Finish this.” He growled in disgust, a veiled sadness in his eyes as he broke eye contact.

The Lamb stepped back, trying to process everything that must have happened. They attacked him, clearly, against their will and puppeted by some strange force, yes, but they did this. It was their responsibility to de-escalate the situation.

They needed to undo the damage, somehow, someway, but…

The Lamb lifted the crown from their head, and attempted to present it to Narinder.

It immediately disappeared and returned to their head. 

Narinder scoffed at them. “Do you mock me, beast? And I believed you at least had dignity…”

Was the Crown the one who had taken control, and forced their betrayal? Was it the cause of all of this? The Lamb knew it had acted as though it was alive before, but it’d never betrayed them in the past. Did it hate the idea of being returned to Narinder so much that it would try to kill him? Make them try to kill him?

Either way, they needed to help Narinder, and quickly. He looked seriously injured.

The Lamb approached him calmly and spoke. “Listen, Narinder. I didn’t mean to betray you. I don’t want to hurt you. Something happened, and I blacked out, and…” They realized how pathetic the words sounded the moment they left their mouth. 

“And you expect me to believe you? After you cut down my sons and try to kill me? After you steal the crown that is mine by divine right and claim yourself a god?” Narinder spat on the bloodied dirt beneath him.

The Lamb could hardly argue back. His rage and distrust were more than justified, and they’d definitely feel the same if they were in his place.

Now that they thought about it, they’d killed the twins, too, didn’t they? The Lamb was more than capable of resurrection, but why did they do that? No, why did the Crown do that? The Lamb tried to pin the guilt they felt on the divine weapon that sat unbothered on their head, but it did little to comfort them.

The Lamb sighed, and decided to worry about it later. There was nothing they could do here, in what the Lamb could only assume was actual hell. They weren’t sure if teleporting Narinder would be different from a follower, but they focused, and a glowing circle of runes appeared below him.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll fix this, I’ll fix everything.” They held up their hand, and ignored the tears that streaked down their face and the aching in their muscles. 

Ah, they were crying, weren’t they? The Lamb almost felt relieved. At least they had the grief to absolve them. 

“You would spare me? You cowardly fool, how dare you-” Narinder struggled to stand, but winced in pain. 

And he was crying too. He, however, had every right to cry. They tried to ignore that detail as they sent him home.

Finally, he disappeared through the ground, and the Lamb could sense him reappear back at the cult. Currently, it was night, and they hoped they could keep what happened here secret from the rest of the cultists. For now, though, they needed to meet him back in the mortal world.

They gathered themselves, took a deep breath, focused on the ground beneath them, and returned home. 

Chapter Text

The Lamb rushed over to the teleportation sigil used to bring in new members of the cult, the one they had sent Narinder to. The moonlight illuminated the area just well enough that the Lamb could see him curled up in a ball. They glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, and ran up to him with urgency.

“Narinder, are you alright? Did a wound reopen, do you need anything-”

“Please, Lamb, just… just take me away from here, I can’t see, it hurts, I can’t let anyone see me like this, I…” His voice was shaky and frantic, and when he tried to stand up slightly from his sitting position, he collapsed. 

The Lamb quickly ducked down and caught him, holding him up and helping him stand. His claws dug into their arm where he gripped it and he stared off into the darkness of the cult. “I hate… I hate… I… I need your help, just…” They could feel Narinder’s stubbornness and anger fading to misery as he spoke, and it broke their heart. “Just take me away, somewhere I can be alone, I- I need to think, and…” His voice trailed off as tears streaked down his face. He didn’t seem to understand where they were. 

They heard Narinder take deep breaths to steady himself as they started walking him towards the rest of the village. “I’m so sorry, Narinder. I’ll do what I can, and- are you physically ok? Can you walk? I have a place for you to live, but-”

“I am not physically ok, damned Lamb! I am mortal, frail, pathetic-” He looked over at them to glare, but faltered at the extremely genuine expression in their eyes. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “I cannot walk alone, but you… you may help me to my home, for now…” 

The Lamb nodded solemnly, and helping Narinder walk on his injured legs, led him down the village's roads towards a decorated home. The Lamb had designed this fancy temple-like house as a gift for him, once he was freed, and as such it was much larger than any other building in the clearing. Now, the excessive Red Crown imagery and grand doorway felt mocking. They winced a little as they realized this, but led him there anyway.

“So, Narinder. I built this house and temple for you, under the assumption that you would… well, I didn’t imagine the Red Crown would betray me, and…” The Lamb broke eye contact with Narinder, and awkwardly shuffled in place. They cursed their past self and this terrible idea.

“Lamb, what is the meaning of this? This is not an appropriate home for what I have become. And what do you possibly mean by the Red Crown betraying you? You did this. Stand by your actions, at least. That way I can say I was usurped by a worthy host of Death.” The Lamb could hear the seething anger beneath his words, but it was muffled by his confusion and genuine belief that having been defeated, he forfeited his right to divinity. 

The Lamb quickly realized they only had such sharp insight into his mind because they were pulling thoughts from his mind subconsciously, like they would a follower. They were uncomfortable with the idea of reading his mind, though, and decided against ever doing that unless absolutely necessary. They blocked his stream of consciousness from their thoughts, and muttered apologetically.

“Nari- My Lord, I-”

“It’s Narinder. And I am no longer your lord. I have fallen, and you would do well to remember that. Remember what you have claimed. What you have taken from me.” The Lamb didn’t care to argue with him right now, so they dropped it.

“Right. Narinder, It’s complicated and I’d rather talk about it indoors, in case someone is awake right now.” They opened the door, and started to step in when Narinder pulled them back. The Lamb stared back at him, confused.

“I will not live here. Where else may I take residence?” He seemed insistent on it, for some reason.

“Wha- Why?” The Lamb walked back to his side and shut the door of the house.

“I have spoken already. It is not appropriate for a frail mortal such as myself to live in such a grand dwelling. Additionally…” He glanced around at the nearby settlement, and the many homes the cultists lived in, “It is far too close to the rest of your cult. I refuse to live with the mortal fools that worship the ground you walk on. Knowing you, they are surely an obnoxious and rowdy lot.”

The Lamb ignored the fact that he simultaneously saw himself as too pathetic to live in the big house, yet too grand to live with such common creatures. Clearly his collapsing self worth and years of godhood were at odds, and they imagined those habits of grandeur were hard to break. Ignoring the contradiction, though, the Lamb did understand his reasoning. They also needed space from the cult every now and again. Even if they loved their followers, they could get a bit… intense at times.

“Ok. Well, I do have one other place that could be suitable. Follow me, then.” The Lamb led him away from the gaudy temple-home and out into the forests surrounding the cult. 

Generally, they forbade travel into this place due to the monsters and heretics that sometimes snuck in, but the Lamb was confident Narinder could defend himself. Once he’d recovered from his wounds, at least. The Lamb would need to keep an eye out until then.

They’d probably need to treat him themself, since they couldn’t tell the cult’s doctors, which was… an issue. Not that they hadn’t learned first aid after all this time. The Lamb just wasn’t sure Narinder would tolerate being doted upon, especially by them. Just another thing to figure out once they’d properly talked about what happened.

Finally, the two of them arrived at a small, dusty cabin. The Lamb gestured towards it, and met Narinder’s gaze with an expression that screamed Sorry, this is the only other option. Surprisingly, Narinder didn’t seem upset. The Lamb awkwardly cleared their throat and talked as they entered the cabin.

“I designed this place for my ah… mentor, Ratau. In case he ever decided to visit. He uh… He didn’t really care to stay here, and just crashed at a random follower's house every time. Said something about spending enough time in lonely shacks in the woods. Either way, I completely forgot about it till now.” 

Inside the cabin was a dusty desk and chair, a bed, a nightstand, and a bookshelf covered in extremely old books. Years ago, the Lamb had stored in this cabin a bunch of random stories and religious texts from the Old Faith temples they raided. They’d been here for almost a decade at this point, and the Lamb had not once picked one up and tried to read it. They simply never had the time or care to try and understand the Old Faith better. Good reading material for Narinder, at least.

Narinder walked over to the bed, and checked inside the nightstand’s drawer. Within, there was a blank journal and writing supplies that the Lamb had intended to give to Janaty, the owl that composed hymns for their sermons. They’d wondered where they left it. 

Ah well, it didn’t matter. Narinder clearly seemed interested in it, so the Lamb didn’t bother protesting.

He stared at the journal, before setting it aside and meeting the Lamb’s eyes. He gestured for the chair, and the Lamb sat down, a little nervous. They were having this conversation now, weren’t they? They should at least let Narinder have the first word, he deserved that. They braced themself for him to start yelling.

He seemed surprisingly calm, though the Lamb knew he was good at masking his emotions.

“Lamb. You have taken the mantle of death from me, and slaughtered the twins I raised from infancy. You have turned me mortal and brought me to this wretched cult.”

“I’m sorry, I promise I can explain, I just-” 

“Silence. I am speaking,” Narinder cut the Lamb off with similar authority to when he was a god. Clearly he didn’t need the divine aura to assert himself, though he didn’t seem that angry…? The Lamb shut up obediently.

Narinder stared at the Lamb with an intense curiosity, a little unnerving given the current subject. His gaze shifted up to the crown, then back down. 

“Several times you’ve claimed you didn’t want to betray me. I can understand hesitation to be sacrificed. I can even understand how the power of the Red Crown may have seduced you to fight, and perhaps we share that dreaded ambition.” 

“But-”

“But. I cannot understand why you refuse to stand by what you’ve done. I have seen gods slain, and replaced, and slain, again and again and again. Every time, they pry the Crown from their victims hands and crush all that they had treasured. You have taken my children, and taken my Crown, but you refuse to take responsibility for what you’ve done. You claim you didn’t want this, yet it is entirely your own actions that led us here. That is what I do not understand, and what I want you to explain to me. If I am to serve, subjugated by my usurper, please, grant me this insight if nothing else.”

Narinder finally broke eye contact with the Lamb and stared out one of the windows into the dark forest, waiting for their response patiently. For a few moments, they simply sat in silence, the Lamb trying to figure out how to possibly explain what had happened. Finally, they found the words.

“Narinder. When I said I didn’t want this, I didn’t mean that I don’t accept the consequences. I will do everything in my power to fix what has been broken, and that includes resurrecting the twins. But the truth is, when I approached you to return the Crown, I fully intended to give it to you, along with my life. I trusted you to resurrect me. I had no reason to betray you, and it hurts me to see you like this.” 

The Lamb lifted the Red Crown from their head and stared into its crimson eye. It blinked back at them, expressionless as always. They sighed.

“When I stood before you, I held the Red Crown in my hands and attempted to return it. I tried, but I could not. And then it spoke to me, the Crown. It took control of my body, insisting only I was worthy of its power. And then… I don’t remember. I genuinely don’t know what happened. But when I woke up, you were on the ground, and you were hurt, and mortal, and I panicked. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s what happened. I was hoping you knew something.”

Narinder stared at them, and the Crown, clearly unsure. There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes as they described their experience that gave the Lamb a little hope. Maybe he did understand, or at least knew something about what happened.

He walked over to the Lamb, and carefully held out his hand to the Crown. It disappeared, and the Lamb felt its familiar weight return to their head. Narinder scowled, and huffed out a sigh in frustration.

“I… unfortunately, have the feeling you’re telling the truth. That… complicates things. Lamb, if the Red Crown has begun to rebel against you, to the point it would overwhelm your will and force you to attack me… I worry about your impending ascension.” 

The Lamb flinched. “But…” Narinder shot a look at them, and sighed.

“Lamb, you have defeated me. You have severed my connection to the Red Crown. The Crown which, it appears, refuses to return to me. Prior, you held most of the Red Crown’s power. Without it, my strength was quickly fading, but it had never been fully cut off from me. Until now, of course. Since the Red Crown’s power is held in full by you, your ascension will come quickly.” 

The Lamb’s stomach dropped. “So, if I can’t give up the Crown, and you no longer have power over it…”

“You will quickly become a full fledged god. And you will remain as one, forever. None are capable of killing you, and you cannot give up your mantle. You will live for all eternity as the last god of these lands.” There was a finality to the way he spoke that assured the Lamb he was right. Still, he seemed to have a lot on his mind. The Lamb stood in shocked silence, trying to process the implications of what he’d just said. They’d be alone through all of time as a god. 

But maybe if they could rebuild this bridge, they could have him at their side. The Lamb knew they would need someone to hold onto if they wanted to remain sane for… forever, and Narinder could handle it. Their desire to make peace with Narinder felt a lot more important all of the sudden.

He started to speak again, but began coughing. He looked at the red blood on his fur confused for a moment, until he laid down on the bed and gestured vaguely at the Lamb.

“Um… what?” The Lamb stood up, and stepped over to his bedside. He hadn’t bothered to tuck himself in.

“Leave me be. I have a lot to think about, and I need rest.” Narinder rolled over, facing away from them. The Lamb could see dampness and stains from where his scars still bled. 

The Lamb used their concern over his wellbeing to distract themselves from their many, many problems. This, they could do something about. 

“Nari, I’ll give you space, but… you’re injured. I can’t leave you without at least binding your wounds. Would you… would you mind if I just quickly..?” The Lamb reached into their fleece’s pockets, and pulled out the emergency medical supplies they kept for crusades. The Lamb had never actually used it themselves, but continued bringing bandages and medicine with them since there were, unsurprisingly, many new recruits that needed treatment. 

It was best to treat these sorts of wounds as quickly as possible to avoid infection, and Narinder was not an exception, strange as the circumstances were.

Narinder rolled back over and made eye contact with the Lamb for a few moments. They could see the contemplation in his eyes, until finally he held out one of his arms. “Just be quick about it, please. These new mortal senses are…” He searched for the right word, “Overwhelming, at times.”

They nodded, and carefully started wrapping his wounds, medicating the bandages with a small bottle of antibacterial ointment. He winced as they did so, but relaxed a little at the gentle Camellia aroma of the medicine. The Lamb did their best to touch him as little as possible, especially around the scars on his arms and wrists, the ones the Lamb could only assume were from his chains. 

They’d never been under the assumption that his chains particularly hurt, but seeing the intense burn and pressure marks on his wrists and parts of his arms… it was horrific. The Lamb couldn’t imagine living with that for thousands of years. Though they supposed with his arms being charred black and skeletal, at a certain point the nerves must’ve burned away, though his bones clearly were restricted, so the size of the shackles adjusted to keep pressing against them with the enchanted heat, and…

“Quit dawdling, Lamb, get on with it so I can sleep.” Their thoughts were interrupted by Narinder. They swallowed back the sickness in their stomach and tried to move on.

He noticed, but did not comment, and the Lamb quickly finished wrapping his wounds. They tucked him into bed, realized he might see that as patronizing, and then was surprised he didn’t actually complain.

Narinder made a humming, satisfied noise, and rolled over in his bed. The Lamb quietly walked out of the room, and was about to close the cabin door behind them when they heard his voice speaking, quietly.

“Narinder?”

He spoke up again, a little clearer. “Goodnight, Lamb.” They frowned, but replied. “Goodnight, Narinder…”

Clearly, something was wrong. In no universe did the Lamb deserve a ‘Goodnight’ from the person they’d betrayed and whose life they’d ruined. In a strange way, the Lamb wished he was more upset. They were used to people being angry at them. But whatever Narinder was feeling seemed much more complicated, and it terrified them.

The Lamb shook themselves out of their thoughts and shut the door behind them, quickly running back to their cult. The sun would rise soon, and they needed to just sit down for a few hours and figure out what to do.

They ducked into their tent, and pulled the curtain shut behind themself perhaps a little too forcefully. They flopped onto their bed, buried their face in their pillow, and screamed.

Why? Why did any of this happen? Why did their stupid Crown- They took it from their head and flung it across the room. 

It simply floated back to them, and sat peacefully on their desk. It blinked at them, expressionless as always, as though there was no possible reason to be upset. 

The Lamb took a few deep breaths, and tried to steady themselves before they had another breakdown. They were alive, they were here. They could feel the pillow under their head, the blanket over their body, the air was fresh and crisp and a little cold, and they could feel these things and they were real. The ground was real. Their life sucked, but it was fine. They’d be ok. They could breathe. 

They silently thanked Forneus for the grounding technique and stood back up, sitting at their desk and flicking the Crown away. It drifted over to their bed and rested on the pillow. They sighed, and looked away from it, at the papers on their desk.

Administrative nonsense, a marriage proposal letter they quickly dropped in their garbage can, a request to become a disciple - they thoughtlessly signed it yes and set it aside. Usually they’d be more thorough with those but they didn’t really care at the moment.

There, the Lamb thought, pulling from the pile of random papers a ripped out page from their daily journal - well, this year’s, at least. It was the one they’d written before meeting with Narinder to return the Crown. Unfortunately, they’d need to make some updates.

Autumn 63rd, Year 39 of the new Faith 

Today’s the day. I’ve talked to Ratau, and while he doesn’t like it, he respects my decision. I know he still hates Narinder, and I know he’s worried about me, but this is my choice to make. I trust Him. 

I’ve spent years talking to Him, fighting for Him, doing everything I can to free Him. I know what He’s like, and He’s not a cruel god. Hell, even if He was, He knows I’m useful. Even if He lied, and wouldn’t have me serve as His second-in-command, I’d still be glad to serve Him. I don’t need power, and I don’t need godhood. I care about Narinder, though, and I want to stay by His side. I don’t really have anyone else, after all.

The cult knows what’s happening today. I tried to refuse, but the followers insisted on throwing a going-away party for me. It was silly. I’d be back soon, after all. 

I reminded them that I am just Narinder’s vessel. Well, death’s vessel. I haven’t told them His name, at His request. 

Anyways, the point was that they shouldn’t celebrate my departure, but Narinder’s return to freedom. They’d get to meet Him soon, and I think I went a bit overboard with the descriptions. Either way, I explained what the plan would be for the future of the cult - Narinder at the helm, of course - and how we would prepare for His arrival. 

The party was an unwelcome source of stress at the time, but it was reassuring in a strange way. Something simple and petty to worry about, rather than my actual problems.

Once the festivities were over, I sent everyone to their homes, cleaned up the village, and mentally prepared. 

This will likely be the last journal entry, since I’ll just be one of His disciples afterwards. The Red Crown has served me well, but it is not mine. The Bishops are dead. My species is avenged. I’ve saved hundreds of creatures from the Old Faith’s iron fist, and the cult will prosper onwards into eternity. 

Ah. This journal entry had aged poorly.

The Lamb sat in silence for a few moments, trying to measure the distance between themselves and the sheep they were a single day ago. It was far too large of a distance.

Corrections, corrections. They flipped the page over and began writing once again. The familiar pressure of their ink pen on the paper helped them calm down.

Autumn 63rd, Year 39 of the New Faith, continued

Narinder is mortal. I am becoming a god.

When I went to the Gateway, I attempted to offer the Red Crown, but something went wrong. It hijacked my body, forced my consciousness to sleep, and fought for me. When I woke up, Narinder had been defeated, turned mortal, and nearly killed. Apparently, during this fight, the twins were murdered as well. 

I brought Narinder to the cabin I designed for Ratau, and did my best to explain myself in an attempt to mend things between us. I’m not sure how well it worked.

When the followers wake up, I’ll have to say something. Not the truth, of course. The best story I can come up with for now is that Narinder chose to continue his work in the afterlife, and leave the Crown to me so I can faithfully serve him in the living world because he’s busy in the afterlife…? I guess…? 

I have no idea. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. Hopefully tomorrow I can improvise better than I can write in a journal after nearly having a mental breakdown. Which I probably can. I feel so useless right now.

The Lamb realized they had left the pen in the same spot for too long and with too much pressure, and there was an inkblot on the page. They sighed. Relax, relax. They’d been stressing themselves out for years, they had coping mechanisms. Compartmentalize, make things simple, easy to focus on.

To do list

-Talk to Narinder in the morning and figure out a plan

-Resurrect Aym and Baal

-Visit Ratau for advice

-Make up a story for the followers

-Figure out how to introduce Narinder to the cultists

That felt a little better. 5 steps, a little bit of focus and hard work, and everything will be fine. They took a few deep breaths and stood up from their desk, pacing for a couple of minutes as they thought about the next day.

Then, the Lamb dove onto their bed, and seeking catharsis, screamed into their pillow one more time to try to get it out of their system. They shooed the Red Crown away and tried to get to sleep.

The futility of this quickly dawned on them, as they could still hear their heart pounding in their ears at times. The Lamb groaned, and decided to begin preparing for their big speech early. Realistically, they’d probably just pace in the temple while trying not to think about too much, but that was more productive than this.

They were far from ready to deal with their followers, but they had almost run out of time to prepare. The Lamb got up from bed, and changed into their ceremonial fleece, taking a few deep breaths in, and out. A quick brush of their wool and a splash of water in their face later, they ran off towards the temple, preparing themselves mentally for the fallout.