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After a thousand years, Narinder still found himself imprisoned. The only difference now being the divine shackles of the void had been traded in for the aged wood of a heretic’s pillory. Considering his humiliating position, he couldn’t help but fondly reminisce on his time trapped between life and death. At least back then he had more leeway for movement.
As the sun settled in the west, Narinder watched the Lamb’s irritably cheery followers retreat to their huts. He was surprised when he felt a tinge of jealousy for the luxuries their homes provided. He immediately snuffed out the feeling, however. No, he does not envy pathetic mortals, even if they do get to enjoy the privilege of blankets at night.
He found himself alone with his thoughts and the sound of crickets. He welcomed it though, as he had much to ponder on. Like his return to power, retrieval of his attendants, condemning a certain woolly beast to an eternity of suffering, dealing with his siblings…
…..
His siblings. The thought of them soured his thoughts tenfold and he hung his head low to permeate in his anger. Narinder had waited a millennium in shackles that decayed skin and deteriorated bones for the opportunity to treat his kin to a similar fate. Years spent training his attendants, making plans for his reign, and patiently waiting in pained silence had all been for naught. The traitorous swines had been spared from retribution and dragged to this hellhole seemingly just to spite him.
He hated it: How he had to tolerate Leshy’s mischief when he was trying to work; having to eat food prepared by Heket (especially since he suspected she spat in his meals); how he overheard Kallamar stammering trying to avoid saying his name; the times he would catch Shamura staring at him from afar with glazed over eyes; watching them all tend to each other's bloody wounds. He hated it. He hated it all.
He had half a mind to set their huts ablaze while they slept so he wouldn’t have to endure the sight of them. Maybe then he’ll have peace of mind, even if it means more time in his wooden prison.
In his scornful trance, Narinder did not register the noise of steps on cobblestone growing louder. It wasn’t until the background noise had ceased that caught the cat’s attention. He raised his chin curiously only to be immediately displeased at the sight standing in front of him. The most treacherous of his kin, Shamura, was once again just staring at him with an unclear expression. Narinder’s ears flattened against his skull.
“Is your mind so inept now that you forget it is rude to stare?” Shamura tilted their head when he shouted, but their gaze did not falter. Upon their lack of reaction, the cat lashed out once more, “Leave my sight or I’ll send you back to your rightful fate in purgatory!”
Narinder did not expect them to start walking towards him. He shrunk against his restraints for a moment before recollecting himself. He thrashed in place, bared his teeth, hissed, anything to deter his sibling from coming closer. It didn’t work, of course.
Now they were a mere step away from him. They brought their hand up so it hovered above his head. Narinder squeezed his eyes shut as his body tensed, anticipating their claws to come down and strike him. The cat was dumbfounded when he felt a hand gently rest itself upon his head. Shamura then used their thumb to peel back the eyelid of Narinder's third eye. He was surprised that he was still able to see out of it.
“I know you.” Their voice brought silence to him and his body relaxed. Those were the first words they had spoken to him in centuries. The voice was so familiar, yet different in little ways.
“Yes, yes, I remember quite well. A wayward kit caught stealing… I heard the commands for the creature’s blood to be spilled. I was going to see to it…”
His brow furrowed at their words. He had very little memory of his early life, and he doesn’t care to remember the inconveniences that came with it before godhood. However, he has replayed the moments leading up to him meeting Shamura in his head over a thousand times during his years chained.
He recalled the feeling of an empty stomach, the hostility of Silk Cradle, and the joy that bloomed in him when he stumbled upon a cult’s food storage. He developed a routine where he would sneak in at nightfall and indulge himself in the bounty of food before making his escape at sunrise. The cultists must have found it odd that their fish supply was getting so low because in the early hours of the morning one day, the bars of a cage came down on him. He was trapped. All he could remember from those next few hours were the sounds of his whimpers and the boastful laughs of the hooded cultists.
“They presented me with the mewling creature, so small…” Ah, yes, how could he forget the sight of an angered and fanged deity towering over him? “I picked it up in my claws, wanting to stare into its fearful eyes before it met its end.” Shamura paused for a moment to bask in the memory, “I was in awe as three eyes stared back.”
Narinder was caught off guard when he felt Shamura's hand move to lightly scratch behind his ear. He had to fight the rumble starting to erupt in his throat. “Yes, yes, I remember… My three-eyed kit, truly an anomaly to nature…”
Shamura continued their motions, looking down at him with a reminiscing smile. A part of Narinder wanted to bite their hand off, but the outburst never came. Instead, he found himself leaning into the touch. He hated himself for it.
The spider reassessed the scene in front of them and broke the silence with a joke, “I see you are caged once more. Have you been stealing again, little kit?” Shamura’s hand traveled down his face to brush back the fur of his cheek with their thumb.
At the teasing question, Narinder’s eyes shot up to glare at the other bitterly and he spoke, “No, in fact, I have been stolen from .” His thoughts turned back to bitterness. “When I reclaim my crown, I’ll have that woolly beast skinned alive and burned at the stake! Only then will the pathetic creature understand a mere fraction of the pain I was subjected to!” He growled up at Shamura, showing off his fanged teeth, “And I’ll be sure to treat my kin to the same fate.”
Despite the threat, their warm smile did not falter and they continued to pet his cheek. “I look forward to seeing your triumph, then.”
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but Narinder’s tired body urged him to sleep. He relaxed his body and stopped holding back his purrs. He told himself that it was fine. They probably won’t remember tonight anyway. His dignity would be spared.
Noticing the cat’s eyes slowly blink shut, they whispered once more “Goodnight, Narinder…”
Narinder awoke to the rising sun beaming rays of light on his face. He could barely see it in the corner of his eye, but he could feel the weight of a warm blanket draped along his back.