Chapter 6: Chapter V: The prophet’s resolution.

“Holy shit I am flying.”

“I know.” Tyrannia chuckled. “You do never forget your first flight. Look down, Isaac.”

The entirety of Astaria’s capital city stood below the pair, who were several hundred feet in the air, the cover of the night making sure no one could see them. Tyrannia was in her winged form. The first thing the man noticed was the thick fog that covered the megapolis , and its surroundings. It extended like a blanket, as far as the eye could see, obscuring everything below them; almost as if the clouds themselves had stopped to take a permanent rest in this valley.

Few things were tall enough to rise above the mist. One of them was the castle, who stood atop a small mountain overseeing the entire capital like an eternal watchdog. Only from outside could one truly appreciate the gargantuan size of the place. It could have hosted a small citadel inside of it, with room to spare — the four towers that adorned its corners threatening to pierce the sky. The arena, also massive, challenged their reign over the heavens.

It was a monument to human depravity, a structure that could have easily fitted thousands of people in, and a more than worthy rival to the roman Colosseum. The architecture looked extremely similar to that of the palace; jagged edges, aggressive shapes, and over the top religious decorations. Isaac guessed it had to be owned by the royal family itself.

The city was surrounded by massive walls that also peeked over the fog, though they clearly had a harder time doing so. Made of stone, dotted by watch towers and several meters thick, Isaac could see some guards, small as ants from his vantage point, making the rounds back and forth. The defenses of the city were further reinforced by the fact that the entire valley was surrounded by impenetrable mountains. Snow covered their sharp peaks as they watched over the majestic basin, making sure the fog never escaped their embrace.

Isaac found the entire sight breathtaking. And one day, this valley would be his. He decided right there and then — this city would be the future capital of his empire. He saw himself sitting atop the walls, above the mist, with an army of demons at his back; this impassable fortress brought down to its knees by his forces. One day, he promised himself. One day.

“Do you wish to see the city from up close? We have already walked through it, but an aerial view of the place might still be useful.” Tyrannia asked, already descending rapidly. She was dragging him by the arm, her massive wings still, almost as if seeking to block all the moonlight. The man did not know how they were flying, or how was he following her along so easily, but he didn’t question it.

“It’s a good idea if we want to move around unnoticed. Can we?” It was already dark, but several patches of light rose from between the shadows, refusing to die even this late at night, the orange color of flames tracing shapes below the mist.

“The fog will cover us.” The goddess nodded.

Isaac found himself flying at a low attitude moments later. The deity’s flight was almost completely silent as they slowly danced around the roofs, taking in the sights of the streets. He recognized the square he had first stopped in. They zigzagged through the houses and shops, just high enough to avoid detection from the civilians below. Something caught Isaac’s attention after a few minutes.

“Are those...”

“Beastfolk.” The goddess replied. “Halfway between animal and human. Some of them served my army during the day. Those are Ice Panthers, if I am not mistaken.”

“Cat people, now?”

“Astaria is a fairly neutral, if minor, country. The only country in the world to swear no allegiance to a specific god, and that allows all the races to coexist. At least those who were not part of my army back in the day. And even then, not all of them have the same rights,” she explained. “Also, do not call them cats. I made that mistake once, when I was mortal.”

The duo slowed down as she pulled her left sleeve back, showing Isaac a pretty nasty scar that ran down her arm. Powerful gusts of wind surged every time the woman batted her wings.

“Damn. Did you-?”

The sudden ring of a bell cut off Isaac’s thoughts. It came from a couple of streets over, and it rang loud enough to be heard around the entire neighborhood. The few citizens who were still walking down the alleyways of the area quickly rushed towards their respective destinations, taking turns here and there to further distances themselves from the sound. Torches went out; people hid inside their houses, and those who couldn’t, behind corners and doorframes.

The man felt Tyrannia’s grip tighten on the arm she was using to fly him around, her expression frozen as she stared in the direction of the street the noise was coming from. It was made clear moments later that whoever was making that sound was coming closer.

“You will want to see this.” She said, more of an order than anything else.

Eventually, the person came into view, their bare feet slapping against the cold stone ground. They were covered from head to toe in black robes, torn in places here and there. They dragged themselves across the alleyway, their every step taken with a substantial amount of effort. On one hand, they held a wooden stick, a simple bell hanging from one side, as they shook the instrument around to warn people of their passing. Isaac got the impression that they were asking for help, though their words were drowned by the noise.

On the other, a baby, covered in the same black robes.

“Leprosy?” the man asked.

“No. Something worse.” The goddess eyes had a violent quality to them, one far removed from the one Isaac had gotten used to during the past few hours. “It is a curse. The Scourge of Phitia, they call it. Similar effects, but only affects the descendants of those who served in my army.”

The prophet’s blood ran cold. “Even after five thousand years?”

The woman nodded. “It is incurable. No one survives more than a few years once the symptoms manifest. Anything they touch will instantly rot. If they try to plant, the seed will not grow. If they try to drink, the water will taste like poison. The curse takes hold of their organs first, so they cannot escape the pain, either. They cannot dream, as the Scourge gives them only nightmares. Eventually, they will not be able to even touch their loved ones, for they will instantly decay on their arms. Some are lucky and live long enough that by the time the curse’s effects manifest, it is of little consequence. Most of them kill themselves as soon as they realize what’s going on, content with the fact that they had spent their lives without having to suffer it. Some other will see their own kids decompose before their very eyes.”

Her voice had gained a sharp edge over the course of her explanation. Almost as if on cue, the black-robbed person fell to their knees. People watched from their windows, but no one moved. The cursed lifted their children as high as they could, begging for someone to at least help their baby. No one came to help. Most just close their windows, trying to shut down their cries of anguish.

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“They won’t help?”

Tyrannia shook her head. “The child has the Scourge, too. It’s hereditary. They might get lucky and live their entire lives without manifesting it. Or they could be rotting away by tomorrow morning. No one is willing to take that risk.”

The goddess’ hand, the one who she was not using to keep Isaac afloat, was clenched hard; her glove, stained red.

“I will not let them get away with this. They are gonna wish they had killed me when they had the chance.”

The man awkwardly put a hand over the deities’ shoulder, but he knew it would help little. Isaac could not even begin to fathom how this must have felt for her. Trapped for eons on some alternate dimension, being only able to watch as her people fell one by one like this. Her followers dying generation after generation, their numbers dwindling. The curse taking the lives of everyone who ever served her.

Isaac suddenly felt like he understood a lot more about their deal. More than three hundred thousand. She had asked, begged for help from that many people, but no one ever came to her rescue. To the rescue of her people. She needed his aid, more than he needed hers. This suicide mission was not some carefully crafted operation over the course of the centuries. It was desperation. A massive gamble. A cry for help.

The man glanced at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were focusing on the robbed figure, burning their shape into her memories. They were no longer moving. The majesty that had defined her every feature was nowhere to be seen, and the true Tyrannia was open for anyone to witness. She was a trapped woman. One that had given her entire empire away for the sake of her own people. Isaac was now sure this world had never met a nobler demon.

The prophet’s thoughts went inwards, towards himself. An idea popped into his head. One that might have been able to save the child that laid between just-turned-corpse’s arms. But it was a risk to their mission. In his mind, two paths for his future formed. He had already vowed to himself that he would become the most powerful man in the world, but that did not address a very simple question. What kind of prophet would he be?

This was his new life, his chance to go down in history, to gain the love he had so desperately wished for. So how could he make sure he did the right thing this time?

He needed to figure that thing out, first and foremost. It would take time, much more than he had available, but he felt like he had arrived at a temporary conclusion when he looked at Tyrannia. She had everything he had ever wished for. Power, dignity, presence...The affection of her people; the few that remained worshiped her after five thousand years, even after forgetting her name. She was the ideal he had to aim for.

Isaac realized that, in a few hours, he had gained more respect for the woman than what anyone else had managed in his previous life. She would never break. She would never kneel. She would do whatever she needed to help her people. She was truly one fit to be a deity.

A noble tyrant. One who had both the power to rule over the world, but also the compassion and selflessness required to be loved by his subjects. That was what Isaac would become. The hero of the demonkind and everyone who chose to follow him, as the goddess had put it. The safeguard of his allies, and the demise of his enemies. He made himself another vow that night.

His thoughts now in order, he turned his gaze towards Tyrannia. She had been fighting for so long without ever expecting anything in return. She just wanted her people to be safe. She was at the end of her rope, desperate, fueled by a burning inferno of hate that had not died down in eons. Her black eyes were brimming with the loathing she felt for her siblings, but they also had a hint of solitude within them. A hint of suffering. A burden she had been carrying for thousands of years.

It was time someone came to her rescue. Both for her and her people. That was Isaac’s resolution. He would not be a good man. No doubt he would have to kill thousands to get his goal. This was far from a noble, selfless act; far from it. He was doing all of this for himself. But at the very least, he would be the prophet his subjects needed.

“I have an idea.” Isaac spoke up. “We can save that kid.”

“Huh?” Tyrannia’s eyes snapped in Isaac’s direction.

“Drop me to the ground.”

The deity shook her head. “Forget it. There is...nothing we can do about it.” Her words came out forced, almost as it were physically painful to utter them.

The man spent a minute in silence, trying to figure out how to convince her. She wanted to help, that much was certain. But how...

An idea struck.

“Say, one part of our deal was that I could ask for more stuff if we both agreed to it, no?”

“In...deed?” the goddess tilted her head, not sure where this was going.

“Then I’m invoking that clause right now.” The man replied.

Tyrannia inhaled sharply when she finally caught onto what he was thinking. Her lips trembled slightly, as she tilted her head upwards a bit. Countless emotions ran through her black and red eyes in a single second before she was able to shut them down. Her fist came undone as her mouth curved upwards, ever-so-slightly.

“... of course.” Her whisper felt warm, somehow. “Do as you wish.”

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