Archive of Our Own ^beta

The noise around the poor lamb was ear-piercingly loud, yet felt so distant. 

Only a few hours ago things were so peaceful. The children were playing in the streets of the village, elderly talking amongst one another, all other lambs going along with their day to day lives.

The lambs coming from the mines, the lumber yards and the farms. The village craftsmen tinkering away in his workshop, the tailors sewing new patterns and outfits for the lambkin.

The usual joyous laughter of the village filled the village air on that sunny day.

Everything was so steady and relaxing, it was their paradise hidden away in the bishop infested lands of The Old Faith.

…

There was fire everywhere, houses burning and smoke filled the air as clouds overhead covered the previous blue sky. 

Lambs screaming and running away from their home’s invaders and punishers.

The heretics ran rampant, praising their respective bishop’s names like a joyous song they could sing along to over the screams of terror of the scared Lambs that attempted to run away.

The entire village surrounded by heretics and followers of the old faith, their red eyes glowing and smiles wide as they manically laugh in the faces of their hunt.

Chains clinked and clanked as one by one each Lamb in that village was chained and unable to run away from their captors. 

The sounds of their friends and families' cries, their neighbours and colleagues begging for any mercy, becoming farther and farther away. 

Many lambs were being thrown into carriages that had barred windows. They banged and weeped, begging to be let out.

The heretics laughed, locking the doors shut and walking around to the front, taking their seats and heading off away from the now destroyed and burning home of the last Lamb populace. 

…

…

A lamb was holding onto something, wrapping their chained-up arms around the larger object, clinging on for any sense of comfort they could find from the cold and large object.

“That brat wouldn’t let go of it. Kinda disgusting don’t you think?” A heretic outside spoke to their colleague. 

“What’d you expect, the thing was asking for it. Tried defending the younger Lambkin with its own body. Bastard got what it deserved for being a non-believer.” The other heretic scoffed. Both started to laugh and continued talking about the upcoming grand ritual.

…

Inside the carriage, a lamb’s selective emotional blindness and deafness removed the fact they were stuck holding the corpse of their headless father. 

The other lambs inside only stared down at the wood floor or the body in horror. 

Blood was still leaking from the barren stump of a neck. 

The strong iron smell of blood and puke filled the carriage for the next few hours they were on the road for. Chains rattled inside, the lamb was holding onto the corpse tightly by the limp arms as it was sat up straight next to them. 

They last saw the larger lamb alive when he attempted to fight off their enslavers with only a wrench and hammer. 

His face was filled with rage and courage, but became stuck in a horrified expression once his head was decapitated from his body. 

The younger Lambkin shook and cried in complete horror at what they witnessed.

Finally the carriage came to a halt. A large lock was removed from the doors and soon each lamb that was inside the carriage was dragged out. The lamb snapped out of their momentary paralysis when the heretics tried dragging them out. 

They resisted and screamed with all the air they had left in their lungs and remaining strength in their muscles as they tried to shake off the heretics trying to hold them down. 

However finally, after much struggle did the heretics pin the lamb to the ground, who attempted to thrash around. 

Soon though, exhaustion hit them hard, making them pass out in the end.

…

…

They soon found themselves on cold stone floors of a cell; where the quiet sobs and mumblings of other lambs could be heard if you listened close enough. They sat up and looked around, seeing how many of them there were left. In the cell they were in, at least 13 other lambs were inside. 

Getting up into their legs slowly, they walked up to the cell bars and looked at any other cells. Others filled and packed with many more lambs, yet the farthest ones they could see had less to none. 

“They’ve been taking the others outside cell by cell, they’ve already finished with 5.” An older lamb in the cell opposite of them explained. Any spark of life gone from their eyes.

Their arms slid down the bars, as they fell to their knees in defeat. They looked down at the floor, eyes wide. Daring not to shed any tears for those damned bishops.

…

…

Hours went by with the occasional loud cries and screams echoed through the stone halls. The lamb was sitting against the wall, knees up to their chest, their heart harshly pounding. 

They were the last ones to go.

Their ears shot up when the cell doors opened, heretics swarming in and dragging the other prisoners by their chains. They begged for mercy, asking why the bishops needed so much blood spilled, only to be met with the same response.

“You’ll know when your time comes.” Is all they spoke as they escorted the lambs outside of the cell and outside into the woods. Soon they will be meeting their bloody fates.

…

There was so much blood, so many headless corpses around yet it was so quiet…

The last lamb was shoved to the bloodied stone block where the large executioner was wiping the previous sacrifice off the dulled blade of a large axe. They walked up slowly, dropping to their knees and looking up at the 4 large figures. 

The bishops of the Old Faith.

“Before us stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade.” The red frog spoke; bloodied bandages wrapped around her neck, sliced open and agape.

Heket, she of Famine.

“With this final sacrifice, the "prophecy" will be impossible to fulfill.” The teal squid continued; bloody bandages wrapped around his ears, ripped and scarred.

Kallamar, he of Pestilence. 

“The heretic who lies bound below will be condemned to eternal captivity.” The bush, worm, thing carried on; bandages wrapped around his face, covering their empty eye socket.

Leshy, he of Chaos.

”And the Old Faith shall be preserved…” The purple spider concluded. Bandaged around their head, where their brain is torn and broken.

Shamura, they of Might.

The lone lamb kept staring at the Bishops, before slowly leaning forward. 

They grind their teeth, and their eyes filled with rage. 

…

They must pay…

…

…

They must pay…

…

They must pay…

THEY MUST PAY…

Ţ̴̺̒̉̇̑H̸̼͇̯̹͖̘͊E̸͕̰͑͒̕͠Ÿ̷͇̠̬̲͒̉̀ ̵̢͐̍̀̌͊͘̚M̴̤͔͂̐U̵̢̪͙̲̐̿S̶̛̩̦͓͒̏̓̊͂̉T̶̮̠́͜ ̶̢͔͛̐͑̄̍̃͝P̴͎͌͗͌́͘Ȁ̵̡̤̖̣̰́̋Ỹ̵̧͒͗͝…̷̣̲̮̳̰̪̂

Ţ̴̺̒̉̇̑H̸̼͇̯̹͖̘͊E̸͕̰͑͒̕͠Ÿ̷͇̠̬̲͒̉̀ ̵̢͐̍̀̌͊͘̚M̴̤͔͂̐U̵̢̪͙̲̐̿S̶̛̩̦͓͒̏̓̊͂̉T̶̮̠́͜———————————————

…

Down came the axe…

Their head and body crumpled to the cold floor, their wool now stained in red…

…

…

…

…

…

The lonely lamb felt as if they were floating. 

It was calm, the silence was so loud.

Their eyes blinked as they sat up from the platform they were laying on. 

They got up and looked around. Where they were was like one you’d see in only your dreams. The place was covered in clouds and white cloudy mist. A soft and fluffy surface covered its vast expanse. 

They heard a low but gentle voice call for them from the distance. 

As they walked towards it, they soon came across a large figure in white robes with red accents, black fringe at the edges of the robes layers and a black fluffy hood. Chains dangling from their body, which were also chaining them down to the world. Large chains were far in the distance, seemingly to be hanging from beyond the cloudy ceiling of the realm.

The Lamb spotted two other smaller cats on either side of the large center being. As the smaller lamb approached, the large cat spoke in a low and quiet voice.

“Come closer. fear not, for though you are already dead. I still have need of you.” The being announced, largely grinning, exposing sharpened teeth.  

“Those foolish Bishops thought they could keep you from me in death. But instead they sent you straight to me.” He chuckled at the irony. The lamb merely stared at the cat with blank, widened eyes. 

“I will give you LIFE again, but with a PRICE.” The being of death explained, his boney black finger slowly raising towards the lamb, his palm opening up. His crown that once sat upon his head slowly floated down onto the hand, now in front of the small Lamb. 

“All I ask is for you to start a Cult in my name. Do we have a deal?…” He offered. 

A chance to kill those damned bishops and make them pay for what they’ve done to them, to their home. Rage blinded them as they simply nodded, taking the crown from the god’s palm. It sat upon their head as a raging surge of power coursed through the Lamb’s mind and body. 

…

…

…

So much blood…

There was newly shed blood everywhere now. Not only of lamb’s blood but now of heretics and murderer’s blood that defiled and disregarded the mercy of their kind.

The Lamb stood in the thicket of Darkwood, looking down at their hands where they held a sword with a glowing red eye on its guard. The Lamb stared blankly at the blood dripping down the blade, its dark red hue shining in the sunlight that peeked through the cracks of Darkwood.

Their savior, The One Who Waits, instructed them to kill the four bishops. The same ones that had placed the order to use all Lamb’s in the land of The Old Faith to the slaughter. Their eyes wide, not blinking at all during their moment of silence. 

Everything was now quiet. However that silence broke when their head snapped towards the faint sound of a heretic squirming. Slowly attempting to drag their limp body away from their attacker. 

The Lamb stood there, staring at the heretic, bloody sword in hand. They turned slowly towards the remaining survivor of the massacre they created and walked towards the weakened heretic.

They stopped next to the heretic, who looked up, their face hidden in the shadow of their hood. Yet their eyes stared at the Lamb in horror. 

The Lamb used their hooven foot to flip the heretic onto their back, then stepping on their chest and started pressing down. This earned a gurgled cry from the heretic, who spat up blood out of their mouth. The heretic weakly took hold of the Lambs foot, while the other hand attempted to reach out for anything to defend themselves. 

Though the Lamb merely shook off the hand and used their sword to pin the roaming hand to the ground, making the heretic scream out. The heretic begged and asked for any mercy for their life, as they have their own people to get back to. 

Yet those words fell on deaf ears. The lamb stared down at the heretic, their eyes starting to glow faintly red. They then took the sword out of the ground and hand, dragging the heavy sword towards the solar plexus of the heretic. The tip of the sword slowly started to press down into their chest, the heretic panicking, begging the Lamb to stop, only for their screams to be cut off as the sword pierced through the body in only a second. Blood splattered and spilled onto the floor of Darkwood and onto the face of the Lamb. 

The Lamb slowly leaned down and began to whisper into the dying heretic’s ear. 

…

Once the Lamb finished, they straightened out themselves and took one last look at the face of the heretic, pulling its hood down with the sword. The heretic was shown to be a simple brown rabbit, red markings covered its face, now also covered in blood.

Footsteps from behind approached them, making them swing the sword in that direction, only to stop. Their eyes met an old rat with a paper crown on his head. A scarf wrapped around his neck while he held a cane in one hand and the other laying on his slouched back. One of his eyes closed shut permanently.  

“My my no need for such violence, fear not as I am Ratau! I was once a chosen vessel like you but those days are lost to the winds. The One Who Waits sent me here to be your guide my friend.” Ratau smiled, their single open eye looking round the bloody mess the Lamb created, who had lowered their sword.

The Lamb’s eyes were still filled with fury, but that fire quieted down only the slightest bit, knowing a friendly face was here at least. 

The old man smiled and began to speak again as he followed the Lamb deeper into the thicket, where more heretics roamed and attacked the Lamb. 

They made their way to a sacrificial altar where a tied up deer was meant to be killed. Ratau instructed the Lamb to free the poor soul and to later have them indoctrinated at the new grounds of the God of Death’s Cult

…

…

A few days went by since their revival and The Lamb was sitting on a log looking at the crown in their hands. 

All this power they were given to free their new Lord and to kill those Bishops, it was just unimaginable, and they hoped it stayed this way till the day they would be able to finally avenge their home, their friends, their family.

The Lamb hugged the crown closely before placing it back upon their head, its red eye glowing. 

The Lamb then put on a smile before heading off to their next crusade, and to find and kill the Bishops slowly… and painfully….

…

…

…

…

A few hundred years later-

Loud crashes can be heard from inside the temple. 

A lamb stood outside who wore a pointed edged cape in the colour of bright red.

A black collar hiding their scarred neck adorned with a golden bell.

Dawning a two tipped black crown, with a glowing red eye peering at the newly marked up temple doors. 

The Lamb held their breath, beads of sweat and blood trickling down their face. 

Their eyes wide in panic before they were able to close shut, allowing them to steady themselves. 

Clutching the book that is filled with spells and rituals of many sorts in their hands. 

Blood stained their hand, staring at their most recent work.

A spell circle drawn up with blood on the temple doors.

So much happened in only a span of minutes…

…

…

…

The lamb recalled the prison that held their grand leader, entangled in large black chains that once held him down. 

“Approach, vessel, and lay your life down at my feet…”

They were instructed to sacrifice themselves to their god, so he could regain his control over the lands of The Old Faith. The god smiled wide in awaited anticipation to take back what was his for so long.

The Lamb looked around at the realm, thinking it would be their last when they freed their Lord, serving them in the mortal world with their people. 

Only until they noticed the screams and cries for help from their flock above them. 

They looked up and saw their flock, locked up and strung up in metal cages, screaming to be saved and not to be killed. 

The One Who Waits reached his arm out for the Lamb to return the crown, still smiling wildly.

Though that smile quickly turned to an enraged frown when their small vessel refused to give the power back once the lamb’s life and dear flock were put to the chopping block. 

So there they fought a gorish battle until one came out victorious. 

…

…

The lamb had their sword raised low at the throat at what was once a large and glorious god, now the mere size of any other mortal being in the world. The three eyed cat stared at the lamb whose eyes only showed the smallest bit of pity towards the fallen god. 

The followers of the Lamb watched the fight take place as they were strung up on wooden crosses. When the gruesome fight came to its conclusion, the followers were releasing themselves one by one. 

They watched in bated breaths as their wool-covered leader stared quietly at the rage-filled cat cautiously. The Lamb was breathing heavily, their wounds slowly stitching themselves shut, not leaving any more blood to let spill onto the cloudy floor.

“You think they’ll finish the thing off?” A fish follower whispered to a fennec fox, who stood tall and with a stern expression, arms crossed as she watched. Her long ears flicked towards the fish. 

“I’m not sure, the Leader has always been the merciful type.” The Fennec Fox remarked.

She shifted her pose slightly to lean more to the side towards the fish.

“However I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to behead the cat. I was honestly more worried for a second that our lamb would accept the offer to have us sacrificed.” 

As she said that, the shorter hedgehog who stood opposite to her flicked her head to the fox, resulting a curious expression from the taller follower. 

“Don’t cha say such nonsense. Our dear Lamb wouldn’t ev’a let anything hurt us. Where did your faith in the lamb run off too huh Kat?” The hedgehog questions the fox.

“I’m just stating what I’m guessing most of us were thinking when we were, I don't know, locked up in the air in metal cages?” Katarina replied sharply to the Hedgehog.

“Honestly sometimes I question where your head is besides thinking about your cowardly husband. Be lucky he has such a strong appearance, Victoria.” She questioned Victoria as she stared down at the hedgehog before looking up at the large Bull who towered over all the other followers. 

The Bull slightly jumped when Katarina stared daggers at him, trembling slightly in fear of her intimidating face.

Victoria and Katarina started bickering between one another as the bull and the fish struggled to calm the two ladies down. 

Behind the small commotion, an albino rabbit struggled to be free from their bindings. After a few more attempts at wiggling their way out of the ropes did they fall to the floor. Dazed, a hand reached out in front of them, which originated from a hyena with the markings of a tiger. 

“Should have waited till someone else could’ve gotten you down, Franky. Less of a hassle to deal with than having to cause harm.” The hyena stated with a blank expression on her face. 

Franky chuckled slightly and took hold of the offered helping hand. “Thanks Sam, and you’re right about that, but I honestly was getting pretty impatient. Besides, I always wanna be on the move…” they slowed down on their response, staring at Sam, who was staring intently at the fallen god in the distance. 

Sam’s face was unclear, but what Franky could see was a sense of familiarity. 

Franky watched Sam closely before calling her name to grab her attention. Her head snapped back, brushing off the feeling before walking over to the smaller commotion happening. Franky followed suit.

Other followers in the fogged realm were assisting others who were still entangled in their bindings. The silence and tension between the two figures of death and power grew through all the distant happenings.

The Lamb and the one who waits continued to stare at each other, with the crown drawn as a sword at the fallen god’s throat. “You have supplanted me. A vessel no more, instead a crown bearing deity. Damned Lamb!” He shouted in rage. He then looked down at the ground and grinned with his sharpened maw. 

“I am at your mercy, are you a vengeful false idol, or merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vite acts on me.” He looked back up, expecting the sword to still be at his neck, only to realize it returned to its wool-headed throne.

A hand reached out towards him, staring at the merciful gesture. 

“I don’t want such a cycle of death to continue, my Lord. I only wish that you may accept this as a second chance at life instead. Please, I’ll offer this opportunity as many times as I wish to keep my flock happy.” Their arm outstretched to the three-eyed cat. 

The Lamb smiled softly to him, which only enraged the cat, resulting with the fast motion of a clawed hand cutting their cheek, and a hard headbutt to their forehead.

Before the cat could land another blow, he was quickly sent off to the cult grounds, leaving the Lamb startled by his actions. They stood there in momentary shock as their followers watched in surprise and concern. 

A blue Axolotl ran up to the lamb to examine the damage. The Lamb turned to the Axolotl and smiled. “No need to worry my dear, it’s only a scratch, nothing to fear.” They explained, keeping their composure behind their masked fear. 

“Now, shall we return to our home my fellow flock? I think it’s best we leave such a dark place behind and look forward to what comes next!” The Lamb joyously exclaimed, gesturing for all their followers to come forward, circling their leader as they all were sent home.

The moment they were all sent home, did the Lamb sense something was amiss. They went to check the indoctrination circle, yet nobody was there to be welcomed. 

Worry started to seep in as they looked around, trying to see where the cat may have gone. They then noticed the temple doors, and the newly engraved claw marks that had been torn into the wooden doors. 

Hints of the Lambs' dark blood were being soaked in slowly into the bright red wood. Eyes watched the Lamb lightly gilde their hand over the claw marks. 

It was a warning the Cat wanted to be heeded.

The Blue Axolotl, with their eyes always shut, sensed what could possibly transpire into panic. She proceeded to put on a smile and ushered the followers back to their homes and to stay put until The Leader welcomed their new member of the flock. 

The followers, slightly cautious but decided to head to their respective huts.

Once everyone was back in their homes, the Axolotl turned back to the temple, her smile dropping slowly as they waited patiently for what was to come.

The Lamb slowly took in a deep breath, and let it out before quickly entering the temple, keeping the door slightly ajar to let a crack of the moonlight and streetlight slowly seep in.

They looked around at the hauntingly clean and tidy temple. Nothing was out of place. They spotted the ritual book at the podium and decided that they should retrieve it quickly. 

A few steps forward and the door closed shut behind them.

The only light coming in from the large stained glass mural of the Red Crown to shine upon the elevated floors where the podium and book sat upon. Where the Lamb would practice their sermons and rituals for their now fallen god, The One Who Waits. 

They heard the sliding of a large plank of wood being placed in front of the doors so they’d stayed shut.

Not letting anybody get in, or get out without struggle.

The Lamb stopped in their tracks, not daring to look behind. He knew that they could sense him, his red eye glowing in the shadowed side of the building. 

“I promised you a chance at revenge for your kind, slaughtered so that my pathetic siblings could keep me locked away for the rest of this world’s life. So I could have died with it when the time came.” He reminded the Lamb who continued to face away from the fallen god. 

“Five becomes Four becomes Three becomes Two becomes One becomes Nothing…I’m assuming that phrase has been the one stuck on repeat for my eldest traitorous sibling Shamura, correct?” The fallen God spoke low, stepping into the soft red light.

The Lamb stood still, their ears flicking in the direction of their Lord’s voice. They slowly turned to face the cat, cautiousness in their eyes. 

“Yes, they always said that every time I’ve encountered them. Pretty much because of the damage you inflicted upon them. However they said more, especially about you, Narinder.” The Lamb remarked noticing the cat’s tail whipping around low to the floor, his ears slightly lowering. 

His eyes squinted in frustration. “Don’t you dare call me that, you vulgar thief! I am your god that you have wrongfully stolen from!” He strides forward quickly at the Lamb, who summoned the crown that quickly transformed into a dagger.

“You think you have the strength and responsibility of my power?! The power I had lended to you so you may set me truly free from my shackled prison!”

As he shouted at the Lamb, who was doing their best to avoid feeding more to the fire through violence; Narinder took charge on the offense and repeatedly swiped and clawed at the Lamb. “I entrusted you to fulfill your original goal and to hand back my power once you were finished with my traitorous siblings!”

He jumped at the Lamb who ran up the steps to the elevated floors, trying to grab the book off the podium.

However, their arm soon was harshly grabbed by the black cat, gripping their wrist tightly, causing the Lamb to wince in pain. 

“I only accepted because I trusted your word in keeping me alive! I did what you asked me to do for so many years.” They took a swipe with their dagger across Narinder’s cheek, grazing his skin, enough to shed black ichor. Narinder hissed sharply from the mortal pain he felt from such a feeble injury. Though this only prompted him to grab hold of the Lambs other wrist holding the dagger, twisting it at an odd angle; resulting in it to drop to the floor.

“Yet after all of that you broke that promise and wanted me to simply lay down my soul and all the followers that have been worshiping you; just so you can punish your siblings further?! Of course I refused, I-“ Narinder’s tail wrapped tightly around the Lambs neck, not allowing them to speak. He let go of their wrists and effortlessly lifted them off the ground.

“My followers? Are you trying to make pathetic jokes now vile Lamb? They were only meant to become an easily obtainable power source for me to strengthen the power I lended to you for safe keeping.” The Lamb’s eyes widened in shock, furious at what they were being informed of. 

One of Narinder’s clawed hands digging into the wooden podium next to him, the book still neatly placed upon it; unguarded.

“The more the devoted sacrifice, the stronger I could’ve become, and yet I can’t do that because of YOU!” Narinder argued back as he threw them to the ground, towering over the small leader. 

The Lamb landed on their feet and coughed, letting oxygen back into their lungs. They looked up and dodged fast enough to avoid the angered cat rushing at them. The Lamb lunged for the book of rituals, and nearly missed the wooden podium hurdled at their face.

The Lamb’s face was in slight shock, mouth agape from the physical strength the cat still had remaining in him after their fight. They quickly snapped out of the sudden shock. Using a cursed attack to knock back Narinder, making him fall back onto the ground. 

The cat slightly trembled, struggling to lift himself back up, his chest started to ache and his head started to spin.

The Lamb stepped backwards before they ran towards a part of the wall and pressed the loose planks on the wall in a specific pattern. This resulted with a hidden door opening for them to squeeze into. They shut it behind them, clutching the book in hand.

The room they were in was a small locked storage hut for materials needed for rituals, usually bones and any specific ritualistic trinkets. They looked up to the small window that was big enough for them to squeeze their way through and get to the outside.

The Lamb proceeded to climb up a chest full of bones and managed to get out of the storage hut. 

They ran around to the front of the temple and quickly made a cut in their pointer finger. Whispering words in the old dialect and proceeded to use their blood to make a spell circle on the temple doors. Once they were finished is when the loud banging from inside started. The Lamb breathed quickly from the panic and adrenaline speeding through their body. They listened to the repetitive banging and crashes that came from within the temple.

The Lamb started to take deeper and slower breaths, calming themselves; knowing that their Lord would be stuck there for a while. They stood there in silence, not hearing the footsteps and ringing of a bell approaching from behind them. “My Lamb, is everything alright?” Asked the blue Axolotl, face plastered with concern, the Lamb flinching when she spoke. 

They spun around and smiled, quickly rushing down the few steps of the Temple entrance and took the Axolotl’s hands into theirs. “Yes!” They lied, the crown floating next to them staring. “Perfect even! No need to worry about anything!” Blood and sweat continued to leak from their face and hands. “Don’t worry about me my dea-“

”Lambert… You’re trembling.” The Axolotl pointed out, causing Lambert’s facade to slightly drop, lowering their intertwined hands. Lambert looked down at the floor before looking back at their spouse. 

“I…I don’t know what to do. I’ve locked him in the temple yet; he’s now here.” Distant muffled bangs and crashes can be heard from inside the temple. The Axolotl’s fins raised at the sounds yet she still faced Lambert, looking down at them.

“In due time will you know what to do, my love.” She crouched down slightly being face to face with Lambert.

“Although confusion, curiosity and cautiousness dwells within you and in the flock, you will soon understand how to manage our new…friend.” She softly smiled, one of reassurance and comfort. Though their leader didn’t seem much convinced, especially in themselves. “But I’m sure he’ll attempt something to get the crown back, since I indeed took advantage of the powers he bestowed upon me all those years ago.” Their eyes shut and head lowered as doubt started to seep in further into their soul. The day turned darker as the moon rose further into the sky, the streets lighting up from the faint glow of the street lights activating.

The Axolotl raised her hand and lifted Lambert’s face slowly to look at them. “Then have faith in the people in the community. We have all devoted our lives to you ever since you became our beacon of hope in our darkest moments. We have the utmost faith and trust that you’ll do wonderous things and that you may guide our Lord and let him enter a new chapter in his life. We understand that you are currently being challenged, and yet we believe in you my love.” 

She placed a soft kiss on their forehead and smiled. “So, have faith in your followers to help you, as much as we have devoted ourselves to you.” Lambert smiled and softly headbutted the Axolotl, smiling wide. “Right, thank you for reminding me, my dear Elisa.” Lambert softly kissed her forehead before glancing back at the temple, now realizing how it has quieted down. Thinking he either tired himself out or realized that he couldn’t get out as of that moment. The two stared at the temple doors where the spell circle glowed dimly of red. Elisa then let go of Lambert’s hands and bidded them a good night. She walked off down the dirt path back to her hut, leaving Lambert to stand in the glow of moonlight and street lights and the buzzing and skittering of bugs filled the noise; stuck in their own thoughts about the day’s chaotic events. They took out the book of rituals and spells and flipped through the pages, looking back at the temple. 

Well, now there was a slight miscalculation on their part.

How were they to perform their usual practices if the temple was now inhabited by a violent and angry god?…

Lambert then decided to walk away from the temple and back to their hut, where they could work on some smaller, personal projects of theirs.

Leaving today’s concerns to tomorrows.

…

…

…

Morning rose upon the community as the members of it started to slowly get to their usual daily morning rituals and assignments. The hedgehog Victoria was already taking her position in the kitchen and got to work on preparing breakfast for everyone there. Her husband Benjamin brought in lumber for the cooking fire. The sun was shining and people were smiling, happy to see the sun once more. Practically forgetting yesterday’s events ever taking place. 

The sound of morning chatter spread through the cult as they headed over to get their morning fill. The smell of delicious sunny side up eggs and sausages were being served, alongside caesar salad with croutons. As they went to their own spots to sit down and eat, Lambert made their way over to the kitchen to collect their meal. 

They greeted their fellow followers, their wounds fully healed from last night. They watched as people were eating and calmly talking amongst one another, enjoying the morning before they all headed off to work and worship. 

Though one thing was on all of their minds. The Lamb’s blood was still emitting a soft red glow, the only thing keeping the fallen god at bay.

Lambert stood up and cleared their throat.

“My fellow followers, as of today the temple shall be…” The Lamb hesitated, keeping up their smile. “closed off for the time being. Inside are repairs being done, so unfortunately for now we’ll be doing sermons and any rituals outside at the totem.” Lambert declared to the followers. The followers glanced and looked at one another, whispers spreading around before simple nods and confirmations finally returned to their leader. They released a sigh of relief before going back to eating their breakfast salad. 

Followers started finishing up their own meals and headed off to their own duties. 

Once Lambert finished their food, they went to put the bowl away but stopped. Looking at the revoke from a distance. Stranding there, they thought it’d be best to bring at least something for their lord to eat. So Lambert took a separate bowl and placed some of the remaining breakfast leftovers; took a glass of water, and started heading over to the Temple. As they stepped up to the doors, the blood on it still glowing dimly, they paused. 

Not sure what to expect.

Yet they grabbed hold of the handle and slowly and steadily, pushed the door open. 

The first thing Lambert noticed was the eerie silence. 

The second thing they saw was that the large plank that kept the doors shut, was now broken in half and tossed to the side like garbage. Which it was now.

The more they opened the door, letting the sunlight in, the more damage and mess it exposed that became of the sacred building. Lambert stopped further into the building, looking for any sign of their fallen god. 

The third thing they noticed too late, was that same fallen god was now standing behind Lambert, waiting to be noticed. 

Lambert spun on their hoof and stepped back in shock. Almost dropping the bowl in the process, however, they steadied themselves and stood firm. 

Narinder stood tall and intimidating, overshadowing the Lamb. He stared down Lambert who cleared their throat then held the bowl out. 

“Thought you may be hungry after yesterday’s events. I understand you’re still mad at me and I won’t blame you for that but-” They were cut off once the bowl was knocked out of their hands. 

The contents of the bowl spilled onto the floor, making a mess. Victoria sure wasn’t going to be pleased if the food she worked on was thrown so carelessly like that.

They blinked at their empty hands before looking back up at the now more angry cat. They stared at each other for what felt like minutes before Narinder growled low at Lambert to “Get out, I don’t want your pitiful SCRAPS…” who let out a sigh and quickly made their way to the entrance. 

…

“Cowardly move to use the locking spell on the doors. Only letting whoever cast it enter or leave through the doors that are riddled with the spell made from their blood.” He snidely commented, smirking at his jab at the small Lamb. 

This made Lambert stop, turn their head and smile. “At least it’s good with keeping its creator at bay where I can keep a close eye on him.” They remarked before shutting the door behind them, resulting with a loud THUD at the door. 

Must he use that bowl for something I guess. 

Lambert walked down the steps and headed over to the kitchen, where they were met with a slight scolding from Victoria about the missing bowl they had taken. Lambert tended to take their food either with them or at times back to their workshop where they would continuously forget to return the bowls. 

They smiled and awkwardly apologized to Victoria, knowing her husband worked hard to get the wood to properly make the bowls. 

Lambert was later walking around the cult grounds, watching over all the followers and how they were performing during their duties. Soon they came across three farmers talking amongst each other and slid behind the barn.

One of them, a brown bullfrog, kept ranting about yesterday’s horrific events. He kept going on and off about their leader and how much it angered him that The Lamb would let such a dangerous person near him. 

The Bullfrog tended to only care about themselves and their safety in those situations. The two other followers just stared at the bullfrog awkwardly, simply listening as he ranted on and on about themselves. 

Lambert was never a fan of that particular follower. Their eyes furrowed, slightly turning a dark red. The crown’s eye slightly glowing dimly…

…

T̸̳͑H̴̫̓E̸̤̐Y̵̠͆ ̷̡́Ȟ̷̡A̷͖̍Ṯ̸̊E̷͓͝D̷͈̈ ̴̺̽N̵̟̏Á̷͉Ȓ̷̯C̵̣̀I̸̹͝S̸͇͝S̴͍̓Ỉ̸͉S̸̪͠T̸̨̒I̴͌͜C̸̘̆ ̵̭̓A̷̲̾S̸̨̍S̴̼̓H̵͕̓O̴̼̿L̸̥͗E̵͉̔S̶͍̓–

…

They shook their head slightly. Placing a hand over their eyes and dragging their hand down, pulling their face from this sudden exhaustion. 

They exhaled slightly and straightened their posture.

Lambert stepped away from behind the barn and walked over to the trio, where now the two other followers were uncomfortable with the Bullfrog’s now flirtatious advances toward the two girls. The Bullfrog had his back to The Lamb, yet the two female farmers noticed, panicked and stepped away to continue tending to the farm. The Bullfrog reached out to the two girls before a gentle hand was placed upon their shoulder, making him jump back in the process. The Lamb smiled at him, their eyes wearing a soft expression. 

“May I ask if everything is alright my friend?” Lambert asked in a soft and gentle tone. 

The Bullfrog panicked before furrowing his eyes and glaring daggers at his leader. 

“As a matter of fact, NO! It ain’t LeAdEr.” He sarcastically croaked at Lambert, who kept smiling. 

The Bullfrog then started getting angry with the Lamb about all the shit he’s had to deal with ever since he was first brought here. 

(Which was 3 months ago mind you.) 

Complaining about the quality of the food, not to his liking at all.

(All the food is professionally made by Victoria and all the food is freshly harvested by the Chief farmer Collie)

The amount of labor he is “forced” to do.

(He wasn’t completely wrong, but he usually slacked off most of the day; every day.)

Finally how he is trying to be nice to everybody there but everybody is acting cold and cruel to him.

(He keeps bragging to the male followers trying to prove he was better, sexually harassing and flirting with the female followers and verbally harassing any of the fallen Bishop's old witnesses.) 

Lambert showed a sympathetic smile to the Bullfrog, acknowledging the upsets of his. Though in The Lamb’s mind they’re just shoving all of it aside. 

“Though you state such complaints, the only problem that I’m seeing is you bothering and acting like a pest.” Lambert coldly pointed out. The bullfrog’s face turned red as he was about to respond when The Lamb spoke up before he could. “This is the 9th time you’ve come to complain to me about the same things over and over again. I understand that you originally came from a high ranking position in your old home in Anura, however you aren’t the boss of ANYBODY here. 

You aren’t a child that needs to be coddled and catered to every second of the day. Though I’m guessing that’s how that was for you before when everything was done for you beforehand.” They grinned, their eyes narrowing, horns turning sharper and iris’s turning slightly red. The Bullfrog stepped back and tripped, falling backwards on his butt. 

“Do hope I’ve made myself clear, my friend. Now, get back to work and if you're slacking off again….” Lambert paused, staring dagger at the Bullfrog frowning.

“I̴̮͛’̴͎͊L̸̩̆L̴̨͆ ̸̩́S̵̨͋Ë̷̬N̶̞̉D̶̙̀ ̷̀͜Y̴̘̊O̷̘̅Ű̸͚ ̷͚͂B̵̢͐A̷̜͑C̷̹̎K̴͕͝ ̸̯͝T̴̨̉O̷̥͠ ̶̠̅Ṯ̸͛H̸͙͑E̴̥̎ ̷̯̊H̵͕̒Ė̵̙R̶̫͠E̴̫͛T̸͈̉I̸̠̚C̴̤̅S̵̝̿ ̸̛͎Ö̸͉N̵̉͜C̸̺̊E̶͖͑ ̶̩̊M̷͚̈́O̴̢͠R̸̥̋E̸̖͠” Their voice glowering as they spoke down to the Bullfrog.

“R-right! Of course My Lamb! Never again!” The Bullfrog stuttered, getting back on his feet and running off to tend to the farms.

Lambert watched as he ran off and let out a sigh of relief. They hated doing that but honestly, they can never properly help it. Rarely does it happen but what can they do? Lambert did have a tendency to intimate easily, their height and usual appearance definitely hides that.

…

From the Temple however, did a particular three eyed black cat peered through a stained glass window, staring at The Lamb. Witnessing their more… violent personality, and started thinking. 

He tended to recall the past conversation he had with The Lamb when they still served under him. 

The Lamb mentioned about their moments of anger and silent rage that reared its ugly head when something or someone would get under enough layers of the traitors skin. 

…

…

…

The Lamb was recently martyred during a crusade while they were trudging through the realm of Anura. A large red frog jumped them from behind and that’s where a heretic of Heket got its sword stabbed into their back. 

When they first appeared in front of their lord, they seemed to be looking into space. Their mind elsewhere at that time.

The One Who Waits called out to the Lamb who seemed to have finally snapped out of their trance. Lambert looked over to their back and grumbled. They felt for the handle of the sword and pulled it out, grunting from the pain.

Even if they were dead, pain was still existing in the world of the afterlife. They threw the sword behind them, then let the God of Death use his magic to heal the wounds of the small Lamb.

After a moment of silence, The One Who Waits asked what was on the Lamb’s mind, as he could tell something was bothering them. 

He placed his finger under the chin of the small Lamb who looked up at their lord, their eyes then looking down at the ground. Lambert placed his small fuzzy hands on the finger, pushing it down to let them speak. Lambert sat down on the misty floor and started talking.

This simple question soon turned into a full blown rant about a troubled teenage follower that he had heard the Lamb speak of on more than a few occasions. 

“Gods, just today did I go all dark and cruel on this one follower. I didn’t mean to get so upset but they were just… UGHHHH.” Lambert groaned in misery, The One Who Waits patiently listening to them as they spilled their woes.

“You tend to talk about this more angry state… describe it to me, my vessel.” He inquired.

Lambert looked up and back down at their hands…

They started describing it as a hot and boiling sensation that rises up when they get extremely upset. 

“They did deserve it though now that I think about it. Repeatedly I informed them not to prank any of the elderly with bowls of poop to even scaring the living daylights out of them.” The Lamb remarked, sitting in front of their god, who stared down at the small vessel. 

The One Who Waits twirled his black boney finger in the plush black wool that acted as a hood. “Why not just place them in the Pillory, or kill them if they bother you so much?” The One Who Waits questioned The Lamb’s choices. 

Lambert thought for a moment, placing their finger on their chin and closing their eyes, deep in thought. “Because I’m giving them the chance to learn and grow up instead of using harsh actions or heavy punishments. The follower is still a young teenager, it’ll take time to let them mature.” Lambert expressed. 

Their concerns over the mortals they tend to was… intriguing. Having such care for someone you rarely would bother with was an oddity for him. 

Lambert tended to talk about their flock, the good and the bad. They tended to care a lot for other mortals, expressing their joys and woes about them. From either a new life being brought into the world or asking if an elder of theirs passed peacefully in their Lord’s presence. 

So it was rare to witness them lashing out when it happens, especially with a troublesome teenager. The Lamb disliked their more aggressive behavior when it appeared unannounced. 

The large god looked at The Lamb before placing his skeletal arm down in front of the small vessel, letting them sit down. He raised his arm up and looked at them. Their eyes curiously watched them as they started rambling about other topics to ignore the previous subject. Lambert then looked at The One Who Waits and smiled. 

“You’re a really good listener, y’know that Lord Grump?” Lambert teased.

His eyes narrowed and scoffed. Tilting his hand, shocking the small Lamb. Having Lambert slide off his boney palm and fall to the cloudy ground. 

“Hey! What was that for? That was a dirty move.” Lambert huffed, their face scrunching up slightly. They stood up and brushed themselves off.

“Never call me such names Lamb.” He scolded. 

Lambert huffed in response, stomping their foot slightly on the ground. The large cat grinned, amused at their child-like behavior. He then raised his skeletal arm and with the flick of his wrist, The Lamb soon was whisked away to their flock.  

As the god sat there in silence with his subordinates at either side, he thought back to some of their followers that he had sent off to the afterlife. All of them seemed to have passed peacefully, knowing that their precious leader had asked for it from their lord. 

Such care for others…. What an oddity. 

…

…

He sometimes wished for what mortal feelings would have felt like… 

…

…

…

Narinder watched out the window, curiously observing how the thief tended to their flock. Noticing the many faces they were wearing around followers. 

He looked at his arms, now covered in flesh and fur and he looked back out to the temple. The place was a complete mess with decor strew around the place, broken into pieces. The amount of rage he so desperately wished to release upon the damned Lamb was boiling his ichor blood. He dug his claws into the windowsill, eyes narrow, and teeth sharpened. He let go of the window sill and walked away. 

…

Being a leader was a challenging task, but not one that could easily dissuade them. They recalled their first day being a cult leader, how they panicked and tried their best to keep up with the constant needs of the members.

Back then they despised every minute of it and how hard it was to even not have them pooping everywhere like a bunch of wild animals. 

As they walked around the cult grounds, soon it was dinner time for everyone. People started wrapping up with their work and other duties and started heading over to the kitchen to pick up their evening meal. Of course, Victoria would go all out with the meals every day and during every meal time. 

Today was no different.

They all gathered and sat around, enjoying their meals and chatting, exhausted but glad to finish today’s hard work.

Lambert took their bowl of grilled veggies and a side of pumpkin pie. They waited till everybody had their meals, and especially waited for Elisa to come join next to them. All started to eat and talk amongst one another with their friends and loved ones when Elisa turned their head slightly towards Lambert. 

They were deep in thought, staring at their veggies. 

Elisa’s eyebrows tilted down slightly. “You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” She inquired. 

Lambert’s ears perked when she spoke, asking the question. They looked at her and backed down at the food. “Just thinking he may be hungry is all. Tried giving him food earlier but… He wasn’t in the mood.” They looked away slightly, recalling that morning how he “dismissed” the food.

They sat in silence, Lambert eating the grilled veggies. Elisa’s eyes furrowed slightly, she placed her hand on Lambert’s shoulder. “I suggest you try again, be as patient with him.” She smiled as she handed Lambert a plate of meat with some veggies on it. 

They looked down at the food and back at Elisa. They smiled and took the offered plate. “Thank you Elisa, you always seem to know what to do.” They praised as they left a chats kiss on their forehead where her tattoo was, 

Lambert stood up and walked over to the Temple and slowly knocked on the door. They waited a few seconds, not hearing anything.

They cracked the door open slowly and crouched down, enough to slide the plate of food into the entrance before quickly shutting it closed. They waited again a few minutes, hearing low creaks from the wooden flooring coming closer to the door. 

They took that as their cue to walk away and back with everybody else.

…

Narinder watched from the elevated floors as the doors opened slightly, a plate of food being brought in before the door shut. The damned Lamb was trying their best to be as discreet as possible but they humorously failed miserably. 

It took the cat a few minutes before the smell of food hit their nose, his stomach betraying him and growling loudly. So he stood up and strides towards the door, looking down at the plate and seeing a shadow from under the doors walk away. The quiet clicking of hooves walking off into the distance, leaving him in silence once more. 

The Lamb was treating him like some kind of rabid animal that needed to be left alone, separated from all the other people in the cult at this point. He deeply growled before quickly picking up the plate and preparing to throw it at the wall, but stopped once the strong smell of cooked meat hit their nostrils. 

He thought for a moment, his stomach once again growling, louder and more often than earlier.

He then held the plate properly in his hands. Walking away from the doors and sat down at the steps. He started scarfing down the food.

He hadn’t eaten any properly cooked meals in centuries, so the warm taste was a surprise to him. 

The Lamb tended to send any raw fish through the offerings chest during his imprisonment, the only food he was mainly fond of. Thinking the reason being was he was a cat and that cats commonly tended to cater towards raw fish was a often perceived stereotype. 

But…

An odd feeling in his chest became noticed with how warm the feeling was, for some reason it felt… off-puttingly familiar.

He brushed the feeling aside however as he continued eating the food.

Once he was finished with his food, he looked down at the now empty plate and placed it aside. He gazed through the red hued glass and watched the lively chatter that spurred from outside, spotting the Lamb in the process. His eyes narrowed, his tail flicking on the wooden floor side to side. His ears lowered to his head. 

As minutes had gone by, the sky outside soon started to darken, and everyone started to head off to their huts to sleep after a hard day of work. 

Narinder then stood up and hopped onto the window ledge of the largest stained glass window at the very back of the building, an altar where small trinkets and candles used to sit upon before they were knocked over the night before to let Narinder sleep upon. 

Narinder curled up and used his arms as a cushion for his head, the cold wooden platform was the only option he had for a bed as of that moment, so he couldn’t complain anyways. His eyes soon succumbed to his exhaustion as he slowly fell into slumber. 

…

A few hours went by and quiet creaks came closer to the sleeping cat, who was deep in his sleep. Lambert entered the Temple, holding their bell and went to collect the empty plate and thrown bowl from that morning. 

Quietly they tiptoed to the bowl first and stepped closer to where the plate sat neatly and picked it up.

Lambert looked up to where the cat was sleeping and froze slightly. 

Narinder’s third red eye was slightly cracked open, glancing at the Lamb, its pupil dilated into a thin slit. 

Lambert slowly raised their hands up. 

They stored the bowl and plate into the crown which then turned into a broom. Lambert cleaned up as much of the spilled food from that morning as they could, not wanting to leave their “guest” with the smell of dirty food.

As they wrapped up, Lambert looked back at the sleeping body, seeing the crack of red on his forehead still watching them intently. The Red Crown returned to its original place on the Lamb’s head once they were finished cleaning.

Slowly and quietly as possible, they made their way out of the Temple, closing the doors behind them. 

…

…

The next day with the sun rising, and the people once more at work. The morning sermon as told took place at the Cult’s center totem statue, the Temple still closed off to everyone except The Lamb. 

Earlier The Lamb during breakfast took a bowl of food to the Temple and knocked at the doors before opening them slightly, sliding the food in, and closing shut afterwards.

Hearing the cat walk up to the door, they took that as their cue to leave. Looking back to the temple, they thought about last night. Narinder seemed like they were sleeping yet that eye freaked them out. 

All it did the whole time was stare at Lambert as they cleaned up a bit. Assuming maybe that was just a defense mechanism of his that lets them look out for himself while he sleeps. 

The Lamb thought to themselves that this was enough for now to keep some form of peace between the two. This week they’d keep up the same routine and try talking to him again next week. 

Lambert could also try getting some clothes for Narinder and also maybe try and situate them with everybody else. Maybe use one of the unoccupied huts that they had emptied out after a recent follower had unfortunately passed away during a missionary trip. 

The fear they had looming over them two days ago seemed to have already dissipated after knowing the fallen god couldn’t really do anything anymore. Hoping that he’d soon start fitting into the rest of the cult over time. 

But the Lamb knew better. It wasn’t going to be easy doing this on their own for all of this, yet they always had Elisa and Ratau to help out.

Right, Ratau…

Best to probably fill him in on the whole “Mortalized god of Death” situation when they come to visit for their monthly Knucklebones game night with Flinky, Shrumy, Klunko and Bop. 

Lambert headed over back to their hut and went into a storage room where some of their wool was put away for the use of plush dolls they’d make for the children or to make specialized clothing for themselves if they ever sheared too much wool off of themselves. 

The crown then started floating around the Lamb, merely observing their actions as a smile appeared on Lambert’s face. New ideas coming to their mind and those ideas turn into grand plans for their flock to rejoice and enjoy. The face was used commonly when they had any bright ideas that would come to mind that’d they then share to their spouse Elisa or mentor Ratau

Taking the chest with the crown's assistance by turning into a large black hand, they made their way to the tailor to store away the wool and to find an outfit that they’d hoped would fit Narinder. A simple dark red outfit with off white stitches and accents that decorated around the clothes. They put aside the outfit to bring later as Lambert then took some of their wool from earlier and got to work on making a custom piece for Narinder.

The piece is of similar fashion to the original design he wore back in his prison realm. The white robes with red accents down the middle, and a black hood to complete it. Though this would most likely take a while to make. Hopefully by next week they have this done. More ideas came to mind for the outfit than having a jeweled brooch in the shape of an eye, but thinking that’d be too extravagant, they decided to stick to a stained glass eye brooch. 

Thankfully Lambert knew they could rely on Elisa to come in and help with either fixing anything that needed any adjustments.

Lambert smiled, the hopeful images of Narinder sooner rather than later getting along with the members of the flock. He practically knows what they are all like from all the stories Lambert told him about back during his imprisonment.

Narinder would definitely get along with the people here. It would just take some time to get used to being around so many people at once after being stuck practically alone (besides Aym and Baal being with him ever since his imprisonment most likely.)

Lambert was even hoping that they could eventually get along after everything blows over. Maybe they can share what each other’s favorite food was, any funny memories from the past, even teach them new curses and spells they can use during their crusade runs. 

Maybe he may know what it was like outside of the land of The Old Faith since barely anybody on the island knew anything besides Plimbo really. Always bringing back interesting items for them to use in their personal projects.

Any new ingredients and spices as well that could let Victoria run wild with making new delicious recipes to even new herbs and medical books for Katarina and Venisha to use to help heal more different sicknesses and diseases that may come their way.

Who knows!

Hopefully Narinder can help them out with all of that when the time comes. 

Lambert was just thankful they didn’t have to deal with anymore of the bishops any longer.

A week should be enough at least to let him settle in.

Right?…