Chapter Text
DING DING DING
A large bell rings out to signify the end of the morning sermon and pitter patters of paws file themselves out of the door and to the serving bars where rows of cooks secured aprons around their waists and began to cook for the masses. Animals of different species and varying ages sat together and made light conversation at the bars; their excitement for fellowship was always palpable.
The Lamb followed the last few stragglers out of the chapel and locked the door behind. As they moved through the crowd they stopped and made brief conversation with any follower that wished to catch their attention. Some notified the Lamb to the upcoming harvest while others deliberated about the low stock of natural resources needed for the upkeep of the buildings.
When the Lamb attempted to break from the crowds and attend to their own duties a brown calf with a prominent black nose ring and a jingling bell around her neck comes barreling towards them. The calf leaps up, hoping the Lamb would catch them, but both of them fall to the ground with a resounding 'thud'.
"Leader! Leader! That was such a great sermon today!" the calf starts, clearly not deterred by the fall. "Where do you get the ideas? Can I do one? I think you should allow me and Nile do one together! It would be the greatest sermon ever!" the little calf spouts on endlessly.
The Lamb sits up and promptly places the calf aside so they can wipe the grass and dirt off of their fleece, "I appreciate your affinity for my sermons Juniper, but I do assert that only I and a few select others preach for the masses," they affirm although a small smile tugs at their face at the child's insistence.
"Pleaseeeee~, Leader. We would be amazing at it though," Juniper stands up, and, with her bell jingling with every movement, swings her arms out in address and tries to speak to the flock although none seem to pay her much mind. "Thanks to our wondrous Lamb we are free!" she announces with her 'r' sounding closer to a 'w' instead.
The lamb lets slip a small chuckle as they finally stand up and pick up the brown calf. They settle Juniper on their hip and muse the tufts of brown fur that threaten to overshadow her eyes, "Mayhaps, when you are a bit older…" they entertain, "You might be able to when I am away for a crusade, but you still have a lot of growing up to do,".
A very weary looking Shamura starts to approach the pair, they are out of breath, looking very peeved, and extremely annoyed. "Juniper!" The spider hisses, "What have I said about running off, away from the rest of the children?"
The calf looks down in embarrassment, "not to….?"
"Yes…" Shamura sighs and quickly takes Juniper in their arms, "Yes…I did say that didn't I?". Shamura expression shifts from one of anger to one of slight confusion. They look to the child they situated on their hip. "I apologize greatly my Lamb…uhm…." they look around and start rubbing the fur on the top of calf's head in a soothing motion.
"Are you alright Shamura?" the Lamb asks, "You know you have no need to apologize-"
"My Lamb?"
"Yes?"
"Juniper is in my arms, we are a long walk away from the nursery, why are we so far?" the spider questions as they continue to soothingly pet the calf's head. "Oh dear…did I do it again-"
"Shamura, you are heading back to the nursery after Juniper seemed to have slipped from your care," they prompt gently. "Does this sound familiar?"
"Yes, yes I believe it does, I was heading back to the nursery….heading back to the nursery, heading back to the nursery…" they repeat to themselves. "I am so sorry to bother you like this again Leader, I just seem to loose my memory sometimes. I do wonder why you have me with the young considering…"
"You are with the children because you wanted to be. You told me you loved caring for your sibling when they were younger and that you thought yourself right to work with our young," the Lamb reminds with a soft grin, "And I still think you are very capable of handling the young, here-" they get the attention of an elder who just finished her morning meal, and beckons her over to them, "Miss Candor, can you please escort Shamura to the nursery, they seem to be a bit lost,"
"Of course, my Lamb," she bends to a low bow and takes Shamura's hand to start leading the spider, "come now Shamura,"
"Thank you again my Lamb, I apologize for any inconvenience me or Juniper may have cause you,"
"No need to apologize Shamura," they start as they wipe off the last of the grass stuck to their wool, "the young are a lot smarter than some may believe, but are easily…subdued," they gesture to the calf who, as if on cue, is promptly asleep.
"Well much thanks for your graciousness my Lamb," they attempt a small bow and turn to make their leave with the elder.
"Wait! Shamura!" the Lamb calls nervously, ringing their hands together, "I know your mind isn't in the right place right now, but would you know where Narinder might be…?"
"Well…" they start trying to call upon their memory, " he has never liked eating in crowds like this," they gesture. "Perhaps he is already off to work for the day," the spider's eyes soften when talking about their brother and even a small smile appears on their visage.
The Lamb nods and allows Shamura on their way. They quickly rid their face of doubts and worries so as not to arise suspicion from their followers. They funnel themselves through the hungry crowd and start their way down the stone path laden with bright red camellias.
The former God of Death was always a loner.
At least that's what he always told others.
He preferred independence, he hated company, and, given the opportunity, would rather live a life of solitude than be apart of a family. But he also knew the power that emerges from working well with others so he taught himself to tolerate the interactions.
He would never admit to himself that he had learned to enjoy the company of others.
Before his entrapment, Narinder fancied staying secluded from his followers rather than maintaining a constant, physical presence like the Lamb does. Although he wold say that he isolated himself to create and air of mystery and allure, to keep his flock always wanting for his presence.
During his 1000 years of isolation though, all he felt was a constant wanting. It made whatever was left of a his heart burn. He couldn't define this new feeling that had descended upon him and that made him angry.
Shamura's visit made him angrier.
Two kittens, they had brought, two black kittens with glowing red scleras, very similar to his own.
Narinder had called out to Shamura, hoping, praying, they would provide him with some solace, with some acknowledgement.
They left as quickly as they came. They left the kittens with a taunting not and then they left, without no more than a glance at their brother.
In nearly illegible writing they had written:
I did not want for you to be…lonely, brother.
He remembers afterwards that tears had fallen from his eyes. He had never felt loneliness had so painful.
He named the kittens Aym and Baal and convinced himself he would only train them as servants to his plans and they would be nothing more. They would call him "Master" and he would teach them all the important things a servant needs to do. They would be no more than tools for him to use to accomplish his own goals he told himself.
They would be no more than mere servants.
Why then, did Narinder, God of Death, The One Who Waits, cry when his kittens were slain?
Narinder tried to let this thought escape his mind as he quietly sat inside the Tailors building, comfortably shaded under the heavy and detailed fabrics. He absentmindedly stitched fabrics of a shirt together.
Over and under, over and under.
The day was unseasonably hot, even in the shade of the Tailor's, although he knows its much better than toiling about in the soil for roots or grapes.
Over and under, over and under.
The repetitive task left much space for thoughts to pierce the thin veil that is his psyche and plant unwanted thoughts about people and relationships of many years past.
Over and under, over and under-
"Tsss!" he sucks in his teeth and winces. Pulling away his paw he notices the familiar red bubbling up on top of his skin and bleeding into his fur. He quickly looks around and unsurprisingly finds no bandages and decides that his robe's thick black fabric would be the good enough replacement.
"You need not sully your robes because of a mere prick Narinder," a familiar bell swings irritably near the entrance of the Tailor. A large shadow makes its presence known, a figure made larger by their wool that sits partially matted on their body (though very few would be able to tell the difference between pristine and matted wool since very few have ever seen another sheep).
Narinder casts his gaze to the Lamb in front of him, making sure to look them directly in their eyes. It would be a very cold day when he submits to the infant God and refuse to look them in the eyes. "What use could you possibly need of me Lamb?" he questions, annoyance tainting every syllable that leaves his lips.
The Lamb easily drops the gaze of the former God and chooses to look about the drapes and fabrics hanging from the ceiling of the Tailors. "Can a leader not check up on one of their flock?" they lightly tease.
"Do what you must, whatever business you require here I'm sure can be carried on when Alma gets back from the morning's meal," he wipes the beaded blood on his robe and picks back up his sewing needle and shirt. Although, for a fleeting moment, he realizes that dirtying his garments would have been a decision out of the picture some millennium ago. He dispels the thought with haste. Over and under.
The Lamb lets out a nervous laugh and rings their hands together, "well I-uhm…" they stumble trying to find some excuse to talk to the former God, their original plan already had fled their mind. They try to call upon a time when words between them flowed so easily between them. Back to a time when the Lamb spent hours with Narinder in his chambers, they would make happy conversation and made excuse after excuse about why the Lamb should stay.
However, since his indoctrination, or welcoming as the Lamb insisted it be called, Narinder has refused to take part cheerily in their conversations like he used to. "Speak, Lamb, if you have no reason to speak with me, please spare me your incessant prattle,".
"Right- erm, I was just curious about your shift from farm work to helping out the seamstress," they strain a smile and attempt to seem unbothered by the former God's annoyance.
Narinder lets out a heavy vexed sigh (over and under, over and under), "if you must know Lamb, this switch is… adequate for the time being,"
"just adequate.." The Lamb repeats to themselves, trying desperately not to let their irritation seep through.
"What was that Lamb?"
"Oh-uhm nothing.." the Lamb looks down at the floor and rings their hands together, "What-what about your siblings?"
"What about them?" over and under, over and under.
"Well," they step further into the Tailor's and pretend the pretty fabrics have caught their eyes, "have you all been getting along, I must have you know I've spent a great deal of time attending to all of their needs to create a suitable environment for you all to hopefully rekindle-"
"-If you wish to know, Heket is incorrigible, her argumentative nature and rock solid stubbornness has made sure of that," over and under, over and under, "Kallamar remains a weak-willed dimwit who has— under very little pressure— become soft and feeble. On the opposite end, Leshy confirms the only constant in his life, other than being predisposed to inconsistency and chaos, is his disdain for me," over and under over and under, "And…"
"And Shamura?" they prompt.
"And Shamura,' he breathes, over and under, "…Is not hostile or particularly dense, but has seem to lost their mind and that has made them weak," he puts down the garment and gives the Lamb a large, sharp, mocking smile, "Now is that all you want or can you leave me-"
"Leader! Leader!" A spry pink pig comes squealing, a large bag still strapped to their person from their mission. They frantically wave their hands in the air to try and catch the Lamb's attention.
"Oh Fion, I didn't expect you back from your mission so soon!" The Lamb quickly turns around from their discussion with Narinder, something to distract themselves.
"I regret to inform you that I was not able to get much meat for everyone, but!" they put their bag on the ground with a heavy "thud" and dig through its contents. After a few minutes of shoveling through his bag (a feat even Narinder stopped his needling to watch) pink hands emerged with a slight crumpled letter in hand.
"I was approached by this huge bird," the pig began as they handed the letter over to their leader. "He had these vibrant red feathers and spoke in a very deep voice like this," he mimicked and managed to pull a small giggle from their leader.
"Did he give you his name?" the Lamb entertained although by the description the Lamb already knew who their followers was speaking of.
"Nope! He just instructed that I give you that letter as soon as I am capable of, so I came back earlier from my travels and-"
"Well thank you Fion, please return any materials you have gathered to the missionary building to be sorted through," the Lamb cuts the pig off before he can start to ramble and curtly lets the pig leave them be.
"What does Clauneck need you for?" Narinder questions.
"Oh now you wish to engage with me in earnest?" they tease.
Narinder huffs and stands by the Lamb's side so that he can see the letter, "Clauneck seldom seeks God's out unless its important," he stresses.
"Oh so I am a God," they jab.
"I never said you weren't a God just that I would never bow to you since you are not the intended bearer of the Red Crown," the former God states as if he were stating a fact clear as day.
"I would suggest you choose kinder words if you would like to look at this letter," they pull it closer to their chest and throw a coy smile at the cat who stares back, eyes slit at the infant God.
the Lamb inserts their finger under the seal and tugs upwards to break the wax and reveal the letter. Carefully they unfold the parchment and hold it out in front of them to allow Narinder a view to it. Despite how much the Lamb wants Narinder to not be involved in their business they can't deny he was a God who dealt with these things and if the letter is really as urgent as Narinder had stressed than they will likely need his help.
I hope this letter finds you in hopeful spirits Shepherd,
Many moons have passed since you last turned over one of my cards, I can tell your success is impressive for such an infant God. The One Who Waits' liberation and subsequent fall was foretold long ago and yet you carry Fate's burdens as a badge. You have carried out her acts well, it seems she kisses you with her approval and lays down yet another task for you to fulfill. If you wish for some elucidation I will be everywhere for those who seek. Ode to the Lamb who once slaughtered many under Death's behest, ode to the Lamb who now cares for the young, sick, and devastated, ode to the Lamb who will try Fate's hand.
I ask of you this, doth thou bow in the name of the individual or to the hand of the ethereal?
I implore you, Shepherd of Death, seek me out, for ignorance is not as blissful as knowledge.
Heavy deep green leaves are pushed aside to enter the small clearing in the forest. Having not entered into Leshy's former domain in ages, the Lamb marveled at the sublime fauna that decorated the bird's tent and rugs. Camellias sprouted from the ground and tempted to catch fire from the excessive amount of candles that decorated the stones surrounding the clearing.
Narinder on the other hand payed no mind to the scene, acting as if it wasn't the first time he had stepped into his younger brother's domain in well over a millennium. "I do not know why you gawk, you can come here whenever you please," he pinches a giant leaf between his fingers and rubs the velvet-y texture.
"I don't understand why you act like this, I expected you to be happier to explore outside the cult for once," the Lamb says. "And I am not gawking!" they retort, annoyed. When the Lamb catches Narinder's eyes again they realize that he is…laughing?
"Kallamar's domain was always more interesting anyhow" he noted as if it were a plain and simple fact.
"You were the one who insisted on accompanying me here~" they remind.
"That's because I find it wise to know about Clauneck's prophecies since they concern all of us, not just you," When he lets go of the plant and turns his attention back to the Lamb he notices a sly grin on their face, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Its…nothing" they smile and turn away to greet the bird in front of them.
Narinder huffs in slight frustration and the Lamb follows his gaze to the red feathered creature.
Expectantly, Clauneck sat unchanging since the first time the Lamb stumbled across his small oasis. They vaguely remembered the small rush they had of flipping over their first tarot card but by now they'd have flipped over hundreds of cards thousands of times. But now instead of the usual two tarot cards just one sits ominously on the bird's rug. The black and red coloring sits contrastingly against the faded blue of the carpet.
"Praise the Lamb, for they have arrived!" the vibrant red bird exclaims."Narinder, former God of Death, usurped by the Shepherd, how marvelous to see you old friend," the bird acknowledges.
Narinder gives Clauneck a small nod and nothing more.
The feathered beast turns his attention back to the Lamb, "I see you received my letter Shepherd…hast thou come seeking answers to their fate?"
The Lamb shuffles through the grass and sits opposed to the bird, Narinder follows suit, taking a place right next to the infant God. "I do," a slight pause, "Do, pray tell, why you have sent to for me?"
"Ah….quite an interesting reason I'm afraid. You see, Fate, she calls to you once more and I find it wise to transcribe her message to you…". Clauneck gingerly sweeps his hand across the card in front of him as if clearing away any dust that had accumulated in the past couple minutes. "You see, Fate is a fickle thing, ever changing, ever present, and everlasting…" he trails off. "Entertain me for a moment Lamb, if i dare be so covetous of your time," after an awkward pause the Lamb nods curtly and Clauneck continues "When you acquired the Red Crown from the One Who Waits, he gestures to the cat, speaking of him as if he wasn't in the room, you knew that your time was limited yes?"
The Lamb lets a pregnant pause sit in the air for a minute while they pretend to think on the question. However the truth had been terrorizing their mind for decades by this point. When the Lamb acquired the crown they knew the only outcome was to be yet another sacrificial beast, destined to have their blood drawn in the name of self important Gods. But a secret part of them had come to be fond of the certainty of their eventual death. After all death at the hands of a familiar presence rather than at the hands of hate felt much more comforting.
"Yes…I did" they focused their gaze on grass in front of them trying not to pay attention to the piercing gaze of the three eyed cat next to them.
"I see…" the bird cooed, "Then why fight?"
The Lamb clears their throat and catches Clauneck's eyes and holds it "I don't see the point in the whys or the hows of it all now Clauneck, why are you asking me these questions?"
The bird seems taken aback by the infant God's forthrightness, "Forgive me Shepherd for my intent is not of malice, but if you see the subject null then we can move on. I just…wanted to understand the outcome of these cards better," Clauneck shuffles and his vibrantly red feathers seem more puffy than usual but his face continues to portray the same neutral expression. "Now I called you hear because this card…it called for you. Now you've turned over many of these card in your lifetime but this one is different…"
Now that the Lamb actually looks at the card they can see small differences in it. This one didn't have the imperfections or dents that the other ones they pull do. This card also seemed to take on a magenta hue to it. At first they thought it was just a trick of the eye but they swear the border of the card took on a dark pinkish red rather than the orange it usually sports.
The Lamb dares to gather Narinder's expression and finds him looking at the card intently and wearily.
"What do they tell you?" the Lamb questions to both animals.
Clauneck lets a low chuckle escape and begins to explain, "Well its more of what they tell you Shepherd. You see the last time I pulled one of these cards was centuries past now. However I'm sure you remember it,". Clauneck raises his hands up to the sky and recites in a loud reverent voice, "Praise the Lamb! Conduit to great power—"
"—Promised liberator of the One Who Waits below…" the Lamb finished solemnly. That damn prophecy plagued their mind since they met the former God of Death. After each battle with a bishop, after every death to one of their followers, those words repeated in their head. Praise the Lamb, conduit to great power, promised liberator to the One Who Waits below. 15 words that damned their species and the price of their lives were exchanged for the life of a self important God. A prophecy that secured their role as the subservient liberator of Death.
"Exactly!" Clauneck excites, red feathers bouncing cheerfully, "And this card told me of the next task Fate has for you," He gestures towards the card. "Go ahead flip it over and I shall interpret,"
Narinder lets slip a loud sigh as the Lamb tries to pick up the card, "Is something the matter Narinder?" the bird coos.
"Nothing," he replies tersely.
The Lamb stares at the card, a task at the behest of Fate. Inevitability haunts loomingly over the three of them. No matter how hard the Lamb would try to resist what was on the flip side of the card, it would happen, no matter how hard they fought. The Lamb theorized over what it could entail; their death? their usurper? their imprisonment, one similar to Death's? All of these were ideas were…comforting they thought. They had already lived an unnaturally long life and would continue their immortality as long as they were a God. They had seen generations of families, grow up, have kids, get married, live together, work together and get buried together. Maybe in some cruel twisted turn of Fate they would finally be free of their immortality and be able to actually live and die. A hopeful smile tugged at their face.
Clauneck sat eagerly, pressing his palms together and his beaked unabashedly upturned in a crooked smile.
The Lamb gingerly pinched the bottom right edge of the card, careful not to damage the card in anyway. Slowly, they flipped it to reveal the underside of the tarot card.
The first thing they noticed was the card's background was that same pinkish red that the outline of the backside of the card had been. However unlike other tarot cards the background almost seemed blotchy in its color with some sports appearing darker in a smudged or blurred manner. It was unlike any other card they'd ever seen. The next thing they noticed was a black fleshy creature with faded purple accents shaped into a circle. The mouth of the creature conjoins with its own tail to create the circular shape. Decorative black swirls border the creature to emphasize it. The Lamb looks up at Clauneck who stares back with an almost devilish grin plastered on his face. Then they look to Narinder who looks just as confused as they do.
Clauneck takes the unspoken invitation to explain by picking up the card and showing it off like a trophy to the pair. "This," he points to the creature in the middle of the card, "is what is known as an ouroboros,"
"an ouroboros…" Narinder repeats to himself.
"Yes! They represent the cycles of life, death and rebirth. Or they can symbolize fertility," he looks between the pair who stare back with rapt attention, not picking up his insinuation. "However in this case I believe its a different meaning of the ouroborous. You see in some cases the ouroboros can represent repetition," he elucidates.
"I'm not quite following…" the Lamb admits.
The bird readjusts, "Repeating cycles, the meaning of the card is quite clear,". Clauneck hands the card over to the Lamb and gestures up towards the sky once more, "The Lands are no more under the reign of those who pray to the Old Faith, however a new presence will assert themselves as master, their cyclical nature shall imprison us all, beware the bars that promise to constrain those who fight,"
Their cyclical nature shall imprison us all
The Lamb turns the card over in their hands as if another meaning will makes itself clear in fine print that's hidden from initial viewing. "So…" the Lamb begins, "why exactly did this card call for me?"
Clauneck lets out another deep chuckle, "Why does the moon rise every night? Why did the First Gods fall? Why was your kin hunted down? These queries all have one answer: because Fate willed them to do so. This card called for you because it was the work of Fate!" the red feathered bird emphasizes.
"I will be apart of this?" the Lamb questions, confusion still finds its way to slither into their words.
"Surely," Clauneck taps the top of the card, causing it to bounce in the Lamb's hand, "what will be one day yours to conquer,".