General Taranis stood, stoic as ever, and watched as the foolish monk began his ritual. Waste of time… should have burned it all and been done with it. Taranis knew what the corpses meant, Venerable Lhao thought it a simple matter of cannabilism and basic human evil. He knew the horrific truth would likely break Lhao. The citizens did not eat each other, the citizens were sacrificed to “feed” Kalaratri, the Void-entity masquerading as a harvest goddess. The reports from his spies early in the campaign told him the citizens believed Kalaratri would halt the spreading Rot. Instead, every one of these souls were ripped through The Six Realms, returning drained, shattered, and as Pretas. The insatiable hungry ghosts which now haunted the plains beyond.

  So rather than deal with the fragile monk’s inevitable mental break, he would let him have his purifying ritual. He had ordered the rest of the army out of the city, Asura war bands setting up camp and gorging on what flesh was left after the battle.

  Lhao would tell me I am a monster for letting them feast… perhaps I am. But look at what we stopped here, this befouled cult would have spread its Rot throughout the realm, so is a feast of the dead such a travesty given what we wrought here?

  Taranis watched as Lhao began spinning his ancient prayer wheel, the engraved lettering glowing with a golden light. Distracted, the general did not notice as one of his lieutenants approached and stood beside him, startling as the soldier spoke, “I hope you do not mind, sir. I am curious as to the ritual, seems futile…”

  Taranis looked at the lieutenant, not recognizing the man. Something unsettling about him… “What is your name soldier? I do not believe I have seen you before.”

  “Dusi. I joined after…” the soldiers reply quickly cut off as a deep cracking sound jolted Taranis into looking back to see Lhao stumbling, prayer wheel now floating above him spinning of its own volition.

  The ground continued cracking, visible fissures snaking out from under the pile of corpses, a faint red light beginning to shine out of them as they made their way towards the two men.

  Dusi did not move, he simply turned to Taranis, his whisper somehow clearly audible over the cacophony of ripping, tearing, angry earth moving around them, “See, General? Lhao’s ‘mercy’ dooms us all. Crush the wheel, end this farce.” For a heartbeat, Dusi’s eyes flickered a starless black.

  Who is this Dusi? The last thought before a battle-lust overcame Taranis, the one feeling he never had trouble accessing, as he saw Voidspawn claws gripping, climbing out of the fractured streets.

  “Go Dusi, bring the 1st Company to me. Now.”

  Taranis cut his way through the razor-sharp claws of the Voidspawn as he made his way towards Lhao, the sickly mess of corpses beginning to fall piece by piece in front of them.

  “LHAO! What have you done?” Taranis had to scream to be heard over the horrible cracking of earth and screeching of Voidspawn.

  “I… I don’t know, this… I can fix this, please!” Lhao screamed back at the General, once again that same desperation clearly overwhelming him.

  “We have no time for this, you are done,” Taranis said as he ripped the prayer wheel from above Lhao’s head, the wheel’s golden light warped to a blood-red as Lhaos futile chants continued, shadows pooling like oil at their feet.

  Taranis threw the prayer wheel to the ground, smashing it beneath his steel-clad heel as Lhao howled his protest. A mixture of anguish and fear.

  “No… General, no… you don’t know what you’ve done!” Lhao stared at the spot where the prayer wheel lay in pieces, dead, inert, useless. Staring at the General, Lhao backed away, only turning to run out of the city as Taranis shifted his focus back to the battle at hand.

  Dodging knife-like claws as he ran through the mass of Voidspawn, Lhao didn’t notice as the cuts accumulated on his body, blood gushing and trailing behind him, a sacrifice unknowingly left behind.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The 1st Company, an Asura Warband, rushed through the city gates to assist their general, Lhao cowered to avoid being crushed by the giants, continuing his desperate flight as soon as they were past.

  By the time Lhao worked up enough of a semblance of courage to look back through the gates, the Fracture had already erupted. A silently torn gap in reality yawned before him, contrasting so perfectly with the roar of the earth breaking beneath them. The mere sight of it threatened to tear through what little sanity Lhao had remaining.

  Huge petrified hands reached from the Fracture, widening the yawning abyss as a veritable storm of ash poured out and spiraled up into the sky. The Ash blackened the sky, covered the afternoon sun, tore away what little comfort the daylight had still provided.

  It began to rain. No. Not rain. Ash. Ash and thousands of stone hands.

  “COVER, NOW!” The General screamed through the howling winds, the order echoed from soldier to soldier through the war band camps, the futility quickly becoming obvious as Taranis watched from under the city gates.

  Even at this distance he could see a thick mud forming. The viscous mixture of blood and ash was fast becoming all that remained of his vast army. Some were able to make it to the cover of the city walls, but few could avoid the hands petrified into mudras that endlessly fell from the sky, the ritualistic gestures seeming to mock him as they cut through the flesh of his army. With a mixture of dismay and wonder, Taranis noted the tears cutting rivulets through the ash on his face.

  So this is how I finally feel again? When a supposed act of mercy destroys my people?

  Mercy. The word would never again be uttered from his lips nor would his mind contemplate requests from his so-called advisors. He turned his back on the rivers of blood on the plains, returning his focus to the battle that raged around him. Voidspawn continued their assault of his remaining troops, having backed them into the city gates they now seemed to seek to push them back into the deadly storm.

  Roaring his newly recovered emotions in response, Taranis felt a deep, insatiable bloodlust come over him as he rushed into the melee. His gleaming armor reflected the voidspawn claws as efficaciously as it once had the sun on the hillside, what felt like decades ago. What little part that was left of his once so logical conscious thought noted with horror that he cut through friend and foe alike, tearing through them like dry parchment.

  All took on a supreme silence as the hours of slaughter continued, the screams of his once allies, the shrieks of the voidspawn, all as nothing under the bloodlust roar in his ears. They are nothing. They are other. They shall feel no mercy.

  When the bloodlust finally subsided, he found himself atop a mound of corpses staring out over the city walls as the storm of a thousand hands continued its wanton destruction across the plains, echoing deeply his act of carnage.

  To his surprise it was not the mound they had seen when they first rounded the bend in the road towards the city square. This mound of corpses next to the city gates was a mixture of the remnants of his army and the voidspawn, this was his mound of corpses.

  Howling his grief, his long suppressed emotional dam shattering, the General took shaky steps on his bloodlust weakened legs. Over and over he slipped on the gore as he climbed down the corpses, every step a fresh reminder of what he had done.

  Back in the city square, the Fracture had long sealed itself, but the storm still raged outside. The remnants of its passing scarred the plains beyond, stone hands pinning his soldiers like butterflies on display.

  The shattered prayer wheel glinted in the ash—its runes now blackened scars. A relic of a failed salvation.

  Sinking to his knees, he stared in shock, am I truly the only one left?

  “Gods damn you and your ‘mercy’ Lhao!” The general’s cry a thunderclap in the silence. Nothing responded.

  Hours passed as the once stoic and mighty general sat collapsed on his knees, staring at his hands. A strange calm took over as he finally stood, “Akshaya—the Imperishable City—that is what I name this place. Let the Wheel remember our victory, not my sins.” General Taranis turned towards the mounds of corpses, thousands upon thousands between the two, and picked up the first body. The endless toil would match his grief, reflect his sin.

  From his perch on the mountain ledge he had not so long ago shared with the General, Lhao watched him labor from sun up to sun down until finally the General, so uncharacteristically small in the distance, looked up at him, paused, and screamed his visceral anger.

  Lhao ran.

  ——

  Taran Sindhan woke with a start, the memories—no, they were dreams, right?— were fast fading, but the emotional tone stayed present. The table in front of him was wet where tears had fallen while he slept.

  He must have fallen asleep sitting at the empty table. He remembered sitting, trying to plan his next move, mind fully occupied with thoughts of his sister, the next thing he remembered was waking up, the hint of a worrisome—yet somehow important—dream fluttered in the background.

  A knock.

  He hesitated, slowly getting to his feet, and turned around to see a woman he had never seen before standing in the remains of his ruined doorway—right, there’s no door left.

  Sighing to himself, Taran approached the woman, his eyebrow raised in silent questioning of her presence.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, is this the Sandhin residence? I am Scholar Cleric Liora from the Lotus Society, I must speak to you about your...awakening.”