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Their scythe spun, as they sent a fury of chains at Leshy— like the ones Narinder used when he and the Lamb fought. Leshy’s eyes widened, as the final blow landed.
It was like magic when the bishop suddenly shrunk and dropped to the ground. The fusion stepped forward, scythe scraping the ground as it trailed behind them. Leshy said nothing, he couldn’t even see as the Black Sheep raised their scythe, ready to end this.
“Wait—“ The weapon lowered. “What am I doing? This isn’t right. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“But I have to. He put them through so much suffering, he killed their family, he banished him! This—“ The scythe raised again.
“Narinder, we can’t.” The same voice spoke, but a different person. “Sure, he’s played a part in ruining our lives but this is too much! I already killed him!”
“Then I don’t need you to kill him. He betrayed me.” The grip on the handle tightened, scythe poised to decapitate. “I’ll kill him again and again if it means making him suffer like I did.”
“This is too far.”
“Then don’t look!”
“I can’t just not look!”
They grit their teeth, eyes pointed down. They leaned the scythe back, and…
Whatever they saw when they looked back wasn’t Leshy. Not the modern one, at least. One much younger and without injury, wearing a bishop cloak and still having an eye.
The sheep’s eyes widened, stumbling back. They rubbed their eyes, double checking that what they saw was real. Surely enough, the younger bishop no longer remained and the blind, cult outfit-wearing one sat. They closed their eyes. “Chill, Black Sheep. It’s just a fake. You can do this. We—“ Yet another look back and the younger bishop stood.
They trembled, the sight of his regret staring back. It’s not real, they tried to remind themself. That bishop is blind. That bishop is going to be dead once they stop hesitating.
“You really don’t want to do this, do you?”
“You— you don’t know what you’re talking about. This was the plan from the start, I was going to make sure these traitors die and STAY DEAD! It’s your fault that I’m seeing this. It has to be.”
“Narinder.”
They stood, silent. Their arms were hanging at their sides by now.
“It was his fault. If he just didn’t look at me with that stupid stare…”
“But it’s clear you regret it—“
“I regret nothing, Lamb. You’re the one who’s sentimental. Gods don’t feel this way. They’re not supposed to.”
“But you’re not a god anymore. At least, I don’t think so. If you were, then I think we’d be 50 feet tall. Yknow, god sized.”
“Just be quiet! I can do this! I want to do this, I want to make him suffer, I want—“
The scythe turned into a crown and returned to the fusion’s head before it could hit the ground.
Their hands moved to the sides of their heads, to crossing over their shoulders. It was the closest thing to a hug the Lamb could give him.
The hug lasted for a while. Maybe a bit too long.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Narinder would break the hug.
“What do we do now?”
———————
When the Black Sheep returned to the cult, Leshy was at the indoctrination circle. It seemed someone had already recognized him, as a yellow cat was already hugging the bishop.
All the sheep could do was smile and watch. It was mostly the Lamb who was happy for the god of chaos, but somewhere in there, they could feel Narinder too.