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“Hey Feybright?”
The rabbit cultist looked up from her work. “Yes Tregretre? What is it?”
“Have you noticed something a little…off, about the great leader lately?” The cat cultist replied.
“Surely you are not doubting their divinity!” Feybright gasped.
Tregretre shook his head. “No, no of course not. They just appear to be somewhat troubled, is it wrong to show concern for our great leader?”
“I suppose not, but the inner mechanisms of the leader’s mind are beyond our simplistic comprehension. Perhaps you are merely misreading the situation.”
“It isn’t just me, Feybright.” Tregretre explained. “Some of the others have taken notice too and share my worries.”
“They have?”
The feline nodded. “I was willing to brush it aside initially but after recent observations I feel that they might be onto something. Think about it Feybright, hasn’t the great leader been acting differently?”
Feybright thought upon this question for a good period of time, going over all of her memories from her time in the commune…which were the only ones she truly had now.
Before she came here, Feybright couldn’t recall that much. Like many others stuck under the tyrannical rule of the bishops of the old faith, her life was one of constant fear and suffering. Their meager village had been invaded by the followers of Heket, but not in the way one would expect; they did not come with swords and arrows and bombs like the followers of Shamura, rather they subtly poisoned the minds of those living within the burrow through deceit and trickery. Using the will of their heretic god, they invoked a famine upon Feybright’s people: the soil grew infertile, crops died off, and food spoiled faster than ever. At first she had attributed it to bad luck but when Heket’s followers swooped in with promises of bringing an end to the hunger in exchange for their loyalty, Feybright knew they had something to do with it.
Unfortunately nobody was willing to listen to her, the pain of starvation proving to be a rather good motivator for her community to fall in line with the teachings of Heket. There were some who resisted but they either gave into temptation or were purged entirely in horrific rituals until Feybright was the only one left. Realizing she was alone, the poor rabbit attempted to flee and preserve her body and spirit but she didn’t even make it past the village border before being captured.
Naturally, the punishment for Feybright’s ‘insolence’ was death via sacrifical ritual; serving not only as tribute to Heket but to make an example out of her to those who would think of following in her footsteps. What really broke her was that the ones carrying out her own execution were her own family; her siblings and parents having been so utterly brainwashed by the cult that her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, the rabbits she loved and grew up with staring her down with cold dead eyes as if she was merely a common house pest.
Feybright’s story would have ended right then and there if it wasn’t for the act of divine intervention the great leader had bestowed upon her. They appeared out of nowhere, practically materializing from the bushes before cutting down the creatures that were once her beloved family along with the rest of her perverted community. Feybright felt no remorse for their deaths, however, not back then and certainly not now.
When the battle reached it’s conclusion, the great leader extended their hand in friendship towards Feybright and tempted her with promises of a warm, tight-knit community and the chance to contribute to the fall of the bishops who brought darkness to the land. Feybright was naturally cautious, already having been burned by those making such promises, but at the same time felt that she owed the mysterious lamb a debt for saving her life. So at the very least she’d see what ‘the cult of the lamb’ had to offer her.
That turned out to be the greatest decision Feybright had ever made in her life.
Unlike the cults surrounding other bishops who constantly demanded more and more tribute without giving anything in return to their followers apart from sparing them from their endless wrath, the cult of the lamb was a more symbiotic relationship. The entire community was provided with food, shelter, medical care, and a strong sense of companionship amongst their fellow cultists; all the leader asked in return was their undying loyalty and the occasional sacrifice to sustain their dark powers. It wasn’t a perfect arrangement but it was a massive improvement over what Feybright had been used to.
But what Feybright loved most about the cult was the leader themself. They carried themselves with an aura of strength and intimidation, putting that power into their sermons and doctrine announcements that molded the cult how they saw fit and inspired massive faith in their followers. Yet at the same time they could also be a warm and comforting presence to the group, they were not some arrogant beast feasting on the fruits of their follower’s labor from some grand throne. They were a part of the community just as much as their followers were: helping to sow the farms, clean up feces, and ensure that the needs of their followers were always met…no matter how strange they were.
‘ I can’t believe Ozmodeus wanted to eat a bowl of poop ’ Feybright shivered to herself.
Of course that’s not to say they were viewed as an equal; no matter how friendly the great leader acted, they made sure that everyone remembered that their relationship was that of shepherd and flock, master and servants, god and disciples. The routine sacrifices and punishment of dissenters kept such knowledge fresh in everyone’s minds. But that was a small price to pay for the sort of safety and comfort that would be unheard of anywhere else.
Yet, now that Feybright thought about it, the great leader did appear to have changed somewhat.
Both their strength and kindness had been subdued lately. Their sermons carrying less weight and the help they provided was much more robotic, like they were half-heartedly going through the daily motions.
Most notably, the great leader had been disappearing and reappearing at random times to parts unknown. Normally that was not cause for concern as their crusades were just another part of life in the commune and most assumed that to be the reason behind such disappearances, but the forlorn expression they wore as opposed to their usual confidence was alarming. As was them constantly mumbling to themselves in private and not in the usual way where they communicated with the one who waits, but rather one that was much more befitting of a mortal creature.
It was all so uncharacteristic of them and even Feybright found her faith being shaken by such revelations.
“You’re right, something is troubling the great leader.” Said Feybright.
“So what shall we do about it? As their servants we are supposed to provide our aid to the great leader however we can.” Tregretre asked.
“Well…perhaps we could ask them about it? See if they would open up?”
Tregretre stared at her friend like she had just sprouted a second head. “Talk to them? You wish to talk to the great leader about their personal troubles? Do you not recall what happened to the last member of the flock who grew too comfortable with the great leader?”
“Pyre was pushing his boundaries with the great leader! They may have been betrothed but that was no excuse for his insolence, Pyre got what he deserved!” Feybright snapped. “What I propose is far different. Like you said, we would merely be showing concern for the great leader and ensuring that they are not faltering on their grand quest! If you ask politely and remember your station, I’m certain the great leader will not harm you.”
“Be that as it- wait ‘you’? What do you mean ‘you’?” Tregretre sputtered out.
“Well you’ll be the one asking them! You were the one worrying about him initially.” Feybright said.
“But you were the one who brought up this idea in the first place.” the cat argued back. “You do it!”
“You’ve been here longer, the leader trusts you more than they do me! I wouldn’t be as effective at the task!”
Tregretre pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. How about this: once we finish tending to the farm today, we’ll settle this over a game of knucklebones? Loser has to be the one to talk to the great leader.”
“You’re on but be prepared to lose my friend, ever since the great leader introduced the game to all of us I have been practicing relentlessly! You stand no chance!” Feybright laughed.
Unfortunately for the poor rabbit, luck was not on her side that night and Tregretre ended up trouncing her in the game. Leaving the task of providing comfort to the dear leader up to her.
Hopefully they wouldn’t be in a bad mood.
***********************
The lamb scanned over his supplies, going through a mental checklist repeatedly to ensure he had everything he needed for the journey ahead. It had been a long and arduous process to reach this point but after tonight, their side project would finally be finished. Just in time too, their inner troubles had been affecting their ability to manage their followers and it showed. They even overheard Tregretre and Feybright discussing the issue when they were strolling past the farm yesterday.
“U-um…e-excuse me? G-grand leader? M-may I humbly request a moment of your t-time?” A nervous voice stuttered out.
The lamb looked behind them to see the very rabbit they had just mentioned standing in the entryway to their inner sanctum, resembling a child about to ask their parent a rather uncomfortable question from the way her entire body was shaking.
“Yes, what is it?” the lamb asked.
“W-well I was…I m-mean we were…I w-wanted...u-um…”
The lamb placed a gentle hand on Feybright’s shoulder. “Calm yourself my child, what troubles you?”
Feybright swallowed the lump in her throat and looked the lamb dead in the eye. “Are you feeling alright dear leader?”
Now that threw the lamb for a loop, one of their followers being bold enough to approach them directly and ask about their own turmoils? That was a first.
While the lamb did appreciate the concern, they knew they couldn’t tell Feybright the truth. They couldn’t afford to show any sort of vulnerability to their followers and frankly what they were doing was none of the rabbit’s business.
So they attempted to ease Feybright’s concerns without giving anything away.
“Admittedly, I have been experiencing some turmoil in recent days. But you need not concern yourself with such matters, I have almost resolved the issue at hand and soon everything shall return to normal.”
“Are you certain?” Feybright asked.
“Have faith little one, that is all I ask of you. ” the lamb replied before gently guiding the rabbit out of his sanctum. “ In the meantime, please spread word of this conversation to the rest of the flock. I am aware that you are not the only one who has been expressing such worries and would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to calm the flock’s nerves, understand?”
Feybright gave an adorable little salute. “You can count on me grand leader! I knew you were strong enough to handle it, I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“It’s alright, run along now. I have important business to attend to this evening.”
With one final nod, the rabbit jogged off to share the news with the rest of the cult and left the lamb.
Turning back towards the table in front of him, the lamb swept all of the assembled supplies into their arms before placing it into the pocket dimension they had created to store all the various materials and items they gathered during crusades.
It was time to put the finishing touches on his project.
************************
A flash of black and red light announced the lamb’s arrival upon the scorched ground surrounding them, not that there was anyone around to witness such a display. The lamb made sure of that much.
The lamb’s surroundings could best be described as dead; the entire landscape reeking of the concept. The ground was barren, unable to support any form of plant life; the trees stood as scorched corpses, their charred surface giving them the appearance of grave stones; and abandoned buildings and rubble littered the area for miles around, some having been destroyed by the hand of mortals while others had fallen to the never ending march of entropy.
To most, this ghost town would have been written off as but simple ruins; a community lost to the ravages of time. But the lamb knew better, they knew exactly what this place was…what it used to be.
Back when their life was still bright and happy, when they still held hope in their heart, when…when they weren’t the last of their kind.
These ruins were once the place the lamb called home.
Even now, ghostly memories of years long passed danced across their eyes. Flashes of friends and family members that used to occupy this space; from the baker that always gave the lamb a muffin every week just to be kind to the kindly old ram who always brightened up whenever the lamb stopped by for a visit. The lamb felt that she shared a relation to them but it was getting harder to remember.
It was getting harder to remember a lot of things.
These memories brought the lamb comfort, allowing them to feel some of the familiar warmth they used to possess before the one who waits took them as their vessel, but those were soon consumed by ones far more distressing.
Fires consuming entire swaths of the town.
Innocent sheep being slaughtered left and right, desperately begging for mercy as they were torn asunder.
And a pair of strong arms dropping the lamb at the very edges of town, begging them to run…run and never look back.
Which is why they were here, why they had put so much work into clearing out the cultists formerly occupying the area, why they had sacrificed so many of their own flock to place protective wards over these ruins, why they had been so despondent as of late. Because they had been trying to finish the one thing that would give this land peace.
Turning a corner, the lamb came to a moderately-sized, handmade shrine consisting of three statues: two big and one small. All of them littlered with various gifts and trinkets the lamb had brought along with them.
Kneeling in front of the shrine, the lamb took in a deep breath, mustered as much strength as they could, and gazed up at the stone visages.
“Hello mother, father, and uh… ” The lamb searched his mind for the name of his sibling. “ Tulip! Yes Tulip, that’s it.”
“I am aware it’s been quite some time since my last visit but you must understand that running a cult is demanding work, my flock is in need of constant guidance and I am the only one capable of providing it. ”
The lamb reached into their pocket dimension and pulled out three flower crowns. “But look! I brought gifts! I felt that these would look wonderful on all of you.”
The lamb placed each of the crows on the three statues, momentarily smiling at their handiwork before their expression turned much more forlorn.
“I…I still miss you, all of you. I miss our time as a family and the happy memories we shared…even as they’ve began to fade with time I will treasure them for as long as I have them.”
The statues didn’t reply, they continued to stand motionless in front of the lamb.
“Hopefully we may be reunited one day, along with all the others who had been lost. I know it might seem like a far-fetched dream but it gives me the strength I need to continue onwards! With the deaths of the heretics Leshy and Heket, total dominion of these lands draws ever closer and soon I will be the new god of this world! ” The lamb exclaimed. " Then- then I can use my powers to restore you to life! I’ve already tested it on my followers with wonderful results! With a bit more refinement I may be able to bring all of you back and-and-”
The lamb’s excitement deflated, arms falling to their sides. “Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself, I still have to dethrone Kallamar and Shamura after all and protect my flock from whatever dangers lay ahead. While I am confident in my abilities there is still much uncertainty in regards to the future, even a mass resurrection may be beyond my capabilities but… ” they looked back up at the statues. “ I must think positive! That’s what you always used to say mother…at least I think you did. Father could have also said that as well but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Even if the chances are slim, there is still a possibility I can bring back our people someday! And when I do, I'll make sure what happened back then never happens to us or anyone else EVER AGAIN!" the lamb took in a deep breath to calm himself "But enough about such troublesome topics, who’s up for a game of Knucklebones?”
The statues still remained unchanged, even as the lamb pretended to play a dice game with them while droning on and on about the various occurrences in the cult and his life. By the time the sun begin to appear on the horizon, the lamb had felt like an entire weight had been lifted from his shoulders despite having spent the entire night playing dice with inanimate objects.
“Well I must be going, can’t allow my followers to worry that something has become of me. I…I’ll try to visit sooner next time, bring more gifts for you all.” the lamb sighed. “I can only hope that I can still recall my own name by then. Even that is becoming a task in itself. Farewell.”
Disappearing in a shroud of eldritch energy, the village ruins were left barren of all life once more. After a few moments, a few droplets of black liquid began to leak out of the eyes of the female sheep statue and if one listened closely, they could hear a faint voice dancing on the wind, uttering but one anguished word:
Lambert.
But there was no-one around to hear it.