Aftermath

"I entrust you with my entire army, grant you the rank of general, and this is what you bring me? Failure, cowardice, and retreat!?" King Gel-ad fumed and pounded his fist in the armrest of his throne.

"My King-" Aru tried to explain himself, Shora stilled propped up in his arms deliriously gazing at the ornate ceiling.

"Silence! No excuse is enough to justify your choices." The king cut off his general furiously. "We had victory in our grasp! Only costing the most meaningless of lives, we could have killed Anak!" He glared intently into Aru's eyes. "Tell me, are you in league with that traitor?" His gaze radiated obsession mingled with paranoia.

Shrinking back from the king's frightening stare Aru stammered out, "Of- Of course not. Your Majesty- er- My King."

"Your Majesty" King Gel-ad stroked his beard, "What's that? I like the sound of it." He cocked his head and wore a crooked smile, like he'd completely forgotten his former inquiry.

Aru attempted to shrug off his nerves, even at the off-putting moodiness of the monarch and bearing the weight of a delirious goddess. "I, well, it's something I overheard the lower members of the Magus' Order address Azazel by. Apparently-" Aru felt his throat go dry and he gulped nervously so he could continue. "Apparently the self-titled King of Fallen used it as an alternate form of address in order to deceive you, My King."

"Hmm." Gel-ad straightened his neck, the vertebrae creaking as he did. "Those beguiling bastards are the cause of this whole mess." The king aimed another intense glare at his general, making him flinch. "I will think on how to make you prove your loyalty. Come to me tomorrow. Sam-el!" King Gel-ad called to his captain of the guard. "Send someone to find Urmu, ask him to appeal to the gods for aid. There are too many old men with big heads in this city."

Sam-el snapped to attention, a salute on its way, when a crystal-toned voice rang out from the shadows. "There is no need. I will call them here."

The neck's of Gel-ad, Sam-el, Aru, and everyone else in the room whipped around, aiming their attention to the back of the room behind the throne from whence the voice had come. "Who are you!" Sam-el bellowed as he charged ahead to stand between the throne and whoever arrived behind them.

From behind a pillar which cast the flickering shadow, a silver-haired girl in an equally silver, sparkling dress stepped out with long, playful strides. "I am the Oracle. I speak to and for the gods. Among other things." She smiled and winked at Sam-el, who was obviously flustered at the non-threatening appearance of the intruder.

King Gel-ad stood from his throne, his head held proudly aloft. "What proof can you offer? I can't simply take your word for it, right?" He smiled his kingly smile, displaying to all that he was in control, even amidst this unpredictable circumstance.

"You ask for proof, War King? I have more than proof." A delinquent smirk crept over the Oracle's ruddy cheeks, and she swept her long silver locks over the back of her head. For a brief moment her eyes flashed with a red sigil, vanishing just as quickly. "The heavens cry out at you, the blood-soaked earth calls for vengeance and release. The one you fear most will most certainly be your undoing. Yours and your nation's." Her smirk spreading into a full-blown grin, the Oracle spread her arms. "Better than proof, I have shown you your immutable destiny. Challenge me, oh King who conquers, and I shall curse you with knowledge."

"The, uh, the gods then? Will you call them?" King Gel-ad did his utmost to suppress the quaking in his voice, so impacted was he by the Oracle's prophecy. Though she offered no proof that she spoke true, everything she said plucked at his hearts worst nightmares and burdens.

With an unbearably cocky expression, the girl thrust her arms upwards simultaneously and stared at the ceiling. The voluminous sleeves of her dress drooped into vast folds at her shoulders as she shook her arms in the air, clanging a series of brass bracelets on her wrists against each other. "God of water, magic, and mischief! Mighty Osk, King of gods! We call upon you!" The Oracle raised up a mighty clamor as she called for Osk to come to their aid, her bracelets and shouts bearing no semblance of rhythm or purpose, just attention-grabbing noise.

The door to the throne room suddenly burst open, and an aggravated water god snarled through the crowd of attending courtiers who aimed their spectating gazes his way. "Stop shouting dammit! I was right outside the door, couldn't you call on your god a little more courteously, King?" He glared at the standing King Gel-ad, who was caught completely off guard by the sudden interruption.

"This girl- that is, the Oracle," Gel-ad's gaze flickered nervously between two figures he found equally unnerving. "She said she speaks to and for you. She said she could bring you here."

"And I have." The Oracle proudly boasted as she met the gaze of Osk, leader of the gods.

"I'm not sure that counts-" Aru began.

"Silence!" the trio of King Gel-ad, Osk, and the Oracle all cut him off at once, not caring in the slightest what he had to say. Aru silently stewed in the dissatisfaction of having his voice silenced and ignored twice in less than half an hour's time.

Osk, halfway through redirecting his gaze away from the minute interruption, suddenly snapped his attention back that way. He was staring at the delirious Shora, whose luminous eyes blankly gazed upwards, and her head spun round and round.

"Shora? What did you do?" Osk glared at Aru his voice bubbling with anger.

"Oh, so now what I have to say matters?" Aru spat, fed up and annoyed at the accusation. "I saved her life, how's that? Anak would've probably killed her if I hadn't conceded the lives of his slaves... well, the slaves. His- friends?" Starting strong, Aru's generally flippant nature came back to bite him at the end.

"Shut up, fool." Osk glared at him one last time, before sweeping the dazed goddess out of his grasp. "I will take her with me. She can't be helped here."

Osk turned to leave with his subordinate goddess, making Gel-ad call after him in a panic. "W-wait, Lord Osk! Can we count on your assistance against the Magus' Order?" He showed desperation for the first time today. It couldn't be helped; Osk was a god. The Magus Order were freaks of nature that no man could contend with save his loathed enemy, the so-called hero of the slaves. He had no other recourse if he chose to stand against them but to beg for the gods' intervention.

Not halting his stride in the slightest, Osk's shout drifted over his shoulder to the king. "Ask the Oracle." The water god kicked open the throne room's massive doors once more, before dashing through the palace halls.

The Oracle aimed her arrogant stare at the king, who was reticent to look downwards. Finally craning his neck down bit by bit like it was made of stone, Gel-ad croaked out. "Well?"

The Oracle smiled a strange and mysterious smile.

...

In a dark and narrow alleyway squeezed between two farmer's shops Rimanqu panted heavily, heaving out each breath in between pained whines. The poor beast's front paw had been caught up in a drift of necrotic fog, shriveling and decaying under the influence of the power of undeath. Tzipora had led the limping creature into this alley, to stay hidden and safe while she looked over the wound.

Tzipora crouched in front of the massive vulpetir, paw that was now little more than bone and scraps of skin held in her own upturned palm. Tears threatened to spill from her eyelids, and she wiped them away furiously with her sleeve. "Don't worry, Rimanqu. I'll figure something out." She comforted the agonized beast and patted it's fuzzy head between the antlers.

Her palm holding the injured paw slightly pressed against the floppy flesh barely clinging to bone, and Rimanqu snarled and squealed in pain, claw instinctively clutching down on Tzipora's palm. A large gash opened on her hand, and she too cried out in pain. She pulled her hand back hurriedly as Rimanqu did the same. Holding her hand tightly to staunch the bleeding, Tzipora aimed a concerned look at her furry friend, who returned her gaze with an equally guilty expression. "I'm sorry, buddy. Are you alright?"

The vulpetir pressed his nose against her hand, and nuzzled against her, showing there were no hard feelings. Tzipora smiled and hugged his giant head. "I'm so sorry, Rimanqu. I really don't know how to help you." Tears spilled uncontrollably, staining the brown fur against her face. Rimanqu nuzzled Tzipora's face, making her lift her head, and licked her tears comfortingly. Looking incredibly gentle, the vulpetir now might have made any woodsman familiar with the breed faint in shock. Rimanqu turned his attention to the bloody gash on Tzipora's palm.

"Oh, that's alright. I know it was an accident." Tzipora smiled at Rimanqu, but the vulpetir shook its shaggy head. Then he began to lick the wound. Tzipora felt an odd invigoration as the saliva met her blood. Miraculously, the skin and flesh knit themselves back together before her eyes, good as new in a matter of seconds.

Tzipora stared up in shock at the furry creature. "Rimanqu? You did that? That's amazing!" She leapt up and hugged her vulpetir around the neck elatedly. She gave him a kiss on the head, and as her lips made contact, she felt the rush of euphoric energy suddenly double, then drain from her body. As she fell flat on her rear, she saw the skin and flesh of Rimanqu's decayed paw suddenly start to regenerate.

Tzipora looked up at her mount in amazement, but Rimanqu returned her gaze with equal amazement as if to return to her the same remarks she'd just made before.

...

Anak retreated with the slaves who had come to back him up. They marched merrily to their quarters, elated at the turn of events in the battle before. Hope was in sight. The boy who had riled his people up and brought them along was skipping merrily at Anak's side. "You really are the hero, aren't you? That's amazing! How'd you get so strong? What's the staff for?" Anak was left reeling at his endless line of questions, but did his best to answer as they trod along the path to the slave quarters.

"I am that Anak, but at best I'm a failed hero." He smiled wryly as he recalled the disastrous result of his previous attempt to free these people. "This staff is just something I picked up in a labyrinth." He ignored the question about his strength, trying to distract the boy with the story of his trip to Triac's labyrinth.

It worked like a charm, as the child grasped his sleeve with a bright expression. "A lab-ur-enth? What's that?" Even the adults accompanying them perked up their ears to listen to the answer.

Anak smiled at the rapt attention he had inadvertently gained from the makeshift army. "Well, it's something like a cave, just twisty and filled with monsters." Anak began his tale with a melodramatic intonation as the group traveled home.