Work Text:
To pass between the state of life and death is a skill few have achieved.
Of course, living for centuries and beyond gave Haro an advantage over most.
The duality of the afterlife was crystal clear. Mortals need not be here long to see that. The vast endlessness of fog provided sunny warmth to some and deep freezing waters to others. Ascended souls were blessed with a peaceful existence in death while those damned would suffer great pain and suffering. None of it mattered to the owl, however. Souls exhibit no differences, neither sin nor virtue could weigh it down. Simply, they are energy.
Haro weaves around stray souls, warbling quietly to himself. Those mortal souls would have to wait, for the owl had plans for a greater spirit on this plain. Feathered ears perked as the rattling of chains grew louder and louder, yet the sound of metal drew no one’s attention. The dead were all lost in their own world.
It made his job much easier.
He wrapped his silky cloak tighter around him, breathing out a cloud as the air dropped several degrees. Haro cracked a smile as his talons scraped against the stone, stepping up onto the pedestal and leaning down.
The spider before them glared up, teeth bared and hissing. Their chained wrists clung to the infinite ceiling, Ichor oozing from underneath the tight confines of their punishment. Their head was still split, brain matter exposed and blood drip drip dripping down their face and onto the stone platform, slowly but surely flowing into a staining red river. A ghost, yet still alive.
Cursed.
“Shamura dearie,” he cooed, brushing a feathered hand under the former god’s chin. “Quite a peculiar situation we have found ourselves in, hm?”
“Haro,” Shamura spat out. The spider’s eyes were unfocused, seeing past Haro instead of at him. “What have you and your bastard crown come to take this time?”
“The time you think about has long since passed, my dear friend. Dost thou even remember, in this endless white prison?” Haro chuckled, the hostility going unacknowledged. “‘‘Twas many eons ago, the Old Faith crumbled into oblivion. Dust in the wind.”
“I don’t see why you’ve come to tell me this.” Shamura's mind was distant at the moment, their voice sounding far, far away. Their body shivered—from long-buried memories or the freezing air, Haro could not tell. “I died so long ago, there was only so much the Faith could achieved with a godless cult.”
The feelers at the sides of their head twitched. “I’ll ask you again. What are you taking this time?”
Haro tsked. “Impatient.” He could feel the empty hunger deep within his veins, and the owl grinned. Bright eyes bore into Shamura’s, an eerie glow casting onto their dulled exoskeleton. “The White Crown calls for another soul. Alas, it seems your family was not enough to satiate its endless pit of a stomach.” He chuckled watching the spider’s eyes widen, if ever so slightly.
“Need not worry, my dear,” Haro clutched the sides of Shamura’s face, bringing them closer. “The cards of fate are in your favor. A life of prosperity and joy, mayhaps you’ll forget your rage and suffering.”
“You’ve taken them already?”
Shamura need not elaborate on who they referred to.
Haro surged the power of the white crown into an outstretched hand and dug it deep into Shamura’s skull. No pain, for their body was dead. The owl’s eyes fluttered, pity welling in their senses.
“No more shall this pain haunt you.”
Shamura furrowed their brow, confused. Then, they submitted, closing their eyes and letting the warm power reach deep into their mindscape. So warm.
“May you Bishops live, free of the curse of godhood.”
Haro’s face split into four, revealing a set of long, narrow teeth and a gaping maw. A low, guttural hiss emitted from their mouth before snapping up Shamura tearing away their ghostly flesh and bones. Their form began to fade, leaving behind an orb of light. It faintly emitted a golden glow, shining brighter than the soul of a mortal.
Haro snapped that up as well. The White Crown fed and the soul cleansed in the process, it may now be reincarnated, never to remember this life again.
Their business with the afterlife has come to a close.
“Times of change have cometh once more.”