Chapter Text
“There’s something wrong with Darkwood.”
“Darkwood’s been acting really weird!”
“I think Darkwood’s cursed.”
Similar complaints had been popping up from missionaries and foragers about Darkwood lately. Normally, Narinder would brush these complaints off, chalking them up to Leshy or the last remains of Leshy’s power or his followers. However, as he stood on the portal and stared, he realized he maybe should have been considering these stories when he was choosing which path to take.
Darkwood was definitely overgrown. However, that wasn’t the concerning thing. What was concerning was the leaks of something dark, more skeletons, and an overwhelming, sickly sweet smell.
It smelled like something was rotting.
He was tempted to rethink this. However, Leshy was the one to cause him the least problems. Narinder and Heket had been butting heads since she was old enough to talk, and Kallamar was terrified of him.
And Shamura…
Shamura was like picking at bandages where you knew there was an infected wound. You needed to take the bandage off, deal with the infection, but Narinder preferred to remain picking at it for now.
“Let’s do this,” he said with a huff, hopping off the platform. The crown responded to his motion, shaping itself into his scythe.
The first stretch was surprisingly easy, despite the dawn mist that curled over the ground. No heretics jumped out at him, and camellias still grew, unbothered by the strange changes. When Narinder plucked some, he found himself pausing.
“Is that…?” They were . Dandelions, peonies, and witch hazel, all flowers Narinder hadn’t seen since Leshy took his crown, blooming bright and strong in Darkwood next to Leshy’s favorite flower. He wasted no time in grabbing a bunch, setting them in his pocket. He would have to train the healers and cooks how to use them, but it was worth it.
That brightened up his spirits, even when he came to the next clearing and found himself face to face with a shrine.
A stone statue of Leshy sat in the center of a pentagram, covered in moss and other greenery. What made Narinder pause was the blackness leaking from the triangle on the bandages, where Leshy’s main eyes used to be. “What is that?” he whispered, stepping closer.
He just planned to reach up and grab a sample.
Instead, the clearing grew dark, and more inky darkness seeped out from the stone. And then, as though he was speaking from a deep cave, there was a “...brother…?”
“Yes,” Narinder said, straightening up. “It’s me.” There was no use denying it.
Leshy laughed with a horrible, wet sound. “Brother, I feel you there…Darkwood has not forgotten me yet…” A sensation drifted over his foot. “I can…”
Something wrapped tightly around his ankle.
“...still…find you…in my woods!”
Narinder screeched as he was yanked off his feet.
The act revealed a vine had wrapped itself around his ankle, sharp thorns digging into his skin. The world rushed past in greens and browns as the vine thrashed him around. When it briefly paused, it was only to reveal giant flowers, blossoming in many colors. As he watched, horribly fascinated, the center split open, revealing giant teeth.
When a flower lunged for him, Narinder forced himself to get over his shock. The crown formed into his scythe in time to split the flower in two. With that room, he aimed for the vine. It wasn’t until the greenery snapped that he realized that he may have made a mistake.
“SH-”
The world was once again flashing by in greens and browns. Narinder angled his body to take the fall on his shoulder, sliding into a tumble. The impact sent pain through his shoulder, but he ignored it, jumping to his feet in time for another flower to lunge at him.
The next few minutes passed in a blur of dodging, striking, clawing, and hissing. More and more flowers and vines littered the grass around him, either cut by his scythe or burnt by his curse. It was nothing like spilling the blood of his sibling’s soldiers, but it was still enough for Narinder to feel a grin forming.
So what if his siblings had to come back? So what if his Lamb was unavailable to him?
If he kept this up, he would get his lamb back and would be able to give them the heads of all whom he killed in his pursuit of them. It would be a grand gesture, mirroring their bloodstained grin as they presented his siblings’ hearts to him-
He slashed a green flower. He noted, mid-swing, that the petals looked thicker, more like slabs of flesh, and that the stem was much larger.
That was before the bright red pollen splattered on him.
Narinder gagged in disgust. Some of it got in his mouth! It felt thick, even with the soft appearance it had, and smelled… weird. He took a step forward and nearly toppled over. His body suddenly felt like he was weighed down by bricks, each swipe and hiss coming weaker and weaker.
His scythe slipped from his fingers. The crown reformed and hovered around him, looking concerned. Narinder tried to say something, but his legs collapsed under him.
Before darkness approached him, he thought he saw a shadow, approaching…
The world blinked by in flashes.
The faint sensation of being dragged. The soft touch of rain. The familiar texture of wool curls brushed against his hand, and he flexed it, trying to follow it.
“...Lamb…?”
“You know, I’ve been mistaken for many things.” There was a chuckle. “Never a lamb, though.”
Narinder opened his eyes. Instead of the sky, he saw the thatched roof of a small hut. A small fire burned on the other side of the hut. A cloaked figure sat next to it, grinding something with a mortar and pestle. Based on the smell, it was sage.
“Who are you?” he asked, straightening up. Before he could panic about his crown, it popped into view, the red eye staring into him. Narinder stretched out his hand. With a soft pop of magic, the crown turned into a snake, wrapping cool coils around his hand.
“Sclebathe,” the figure said, lowering his hood.
Narinder let out a hiss. “God of medicine.” Shamura had spoken about him. “Kashe’s fourth child.”
“Oh, did Shamura talk about me? That’s good to know,” The name was spat out like it was rotten meat. “But, no matter. How are you feeling?”
“Like I need to have a word with my brother.” Narinder got to his feet, thankfully no longer staggering. “Thank you for your assistance, cousin , but I’ll be leaving.” Coyote’s warning rang through his head, and this more than proved him correct.
He needed to get his siblings.
“Oh, good! My brother, Abahn, has been battling him for most of the afternoon. Last I heard, my brother was beginning to wear down.”
When Narinder had entered Darkwood, it had been early morning. He squinted up at the sky. The sun was high, and the mist was gone. And, off in the distance, there was a roar.
He took off towards it.
Footsteps followed him. He sped up, but all too quickly, Sclebathe was next to him, easily keeping pace. “May I ask a question?”
“No.”
“Why are you helping them? Your siblings, I mean.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I know what they did to you. Sealing you away for the crime of curiosity feels too cruel.”
“I don’t care. Why are you following me?”
“You and my brother need my medicine. It helps with the effects of the plants.”
As if he had summoned them, plants burst out of the ground. This time, heretics swarmed out of the underbrush, lunging at Narinder and his follower with cries of “For the god of chaos!” “The Lord Leshy!” and similar cries. In the distance, closer, he could hear the roars louder.
Narinder did not even bother summoning a weapon. From a young age, Shamura had insisted that their siblings learn gymnastics and martial arts, skills that spiders were suited for with their silk. Turns out cats were good at it as well. Plus, he was impatient.
He dodged and ducked as he pushed forward, grabbing heretics and pushing them back, either pushing them into the path of the flowers or making them trip and fall into each other. Soon enough, he was clear.
As well as his pursuer. “Interesting that you didn’t kill them,” Sclebathe mused. “I thought you were Death itself.”
“And I thought you wanted to get to your brother-”
He entered what looked to be the remains of Leshy’s main temple. There looked to have been a ritual circle on the floor, with several bodies decorating the floor, clenching blood-stained daggers.
However, his attention was caught by the two figures battling.
One had the curved horns of bovidae, his chest bare to reveal fur or wool that resembled a wolf’s pelt, his cow tail stiff. The other was huge, his eldritch form much bigger than Narinder had seen it before. However, his stomach twisted in horror when he realized that half of Leshy’s head was raw meat, as though he had been flayed. Chunks of body were missing here and there, with other flayed spots, with the greenery withered, but that didn’t seem to be stopping Leshy.
They walked in time to see the goat raise a hand with a battle cry. Vines whooshed out in time to grab Leshy, yanking tight and digging deep into those bare spots. Several snapped off as Leshy wriggled, but more and more came, replacing the snapped spots.
Finally, it was done.
“Abahn!” Sclebathe called, pushing past Narinder to run up to his sibling.
“Narinder!” Leshy roared, his voice cracking. “I can fucking smell you-”
The goat raised a hand. Pinkish-white flowers blossomed to life around Leshy’s head. Leshy roared and thrashed, but the action only sent pollen into the air. He breathed in and, slowly, his thrashing lessened. Finally, his head hit the stone floor.
Narinder took a step despite himself.
“I wouldn’t!” Abahn called. “I just grew a whole bunch of valerian. It’ll knock you out.”
“I know what valerian does.” He could smell something else, though. Narinder turned to the former god of wilderness. “What else did you give him?”
“I’ve been trying to get him to just stay asleep so the pain would bother him less, including mushroom painkillers.”
“That’s one way to kill the pain,” Sclebathe muttered as he walked past, pulling out the mortar and pestle. He pulled out a small black vial and poured it in. “This mixture, mixed with your blood, should cure the suffering of the purge.” Before Narinder could ask how he got his blood, the wolf poured the mixture into a bottle and shook it.
He then threw it on Leshy’s face. Narinder half-expected his brother to wake from the liquid, but Leshy only groaned softly before his form, seemed to shiver. Then it seemed to collapse on itself, bones and muscles creaking and snapping, before it suddenly stopped.
And, with a poof, his brother had shrunken.
It…had been a while since Narinder had seen Leshy in a mortal-
“Anyway,” Abahne said, crossing his arms with a proud little smile. “Before he wakes up, I’m gonna take him off your hands, if you don’t mind-”
Narinder summoned his scythe before he could think twice.
“No.”
Abahne blinked, eyes going wide as he raised his hands. “What do you mean, no?! We’re offering to take him off your hands! He helped seal you away!”
He had a point. Still, Narinder trusted his siblings more than these two. “No. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”
“I think he’s waking up!” Sclebathe called, breaking the staredown.
Narinder whirled around and rushed up. The valerian had somehow died in the past few minutes, meaning his full focus was on the slowly moving body of his brother. He reached out, despite himself.
“Leshy? Are you alive?”
“He should be,” Abahe called, but he ignored him. His brother knew his own body.
There was a soft motion from the still body. Narinder leaned closer. Was that… breathing?
Yes, that was. It was a soft up and down of his chest.
“Little brother,” Narinder said, reaching down despite his better senses. “Wake up. You’re alright. You-”
There was another breath.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-!”
Narinder would refuse to admit that he nearly jumped a foot in the air as Leshy started screaming. His panic nearly overtook him. “Why is he-?” He listened for a few seconds and felt his ears flatten. Goddamit, he should have started with Shamura. Shamura wouldn’t have done this with him.
“Why is he screaming?!” Sclebahe yelled, covering his ears. Abahe looked ready to curl into a ball. “He should be fine!”
“He is,” Narinder yelled over his younger brother’s screaming. Leshy had a certain tone between his screams of pain and when he was screaming to be annoying, a thing he suspected happened between all younger siblings. It made him wonder about the two siblings with him, however. “He’s just being annoying.” Well, that answered the question of whether or not Leshy would come willingly, and the answer was no. Narinder summoned tendrils of magic and wrapped them around his youngest sibling, squeezing hard enough that Leshy shut his mouth. “I’ll be taking him back-”
“NEVER!” Leshy yelled, cutting him off, his legs pumping as if he was ready to take off the moment Narinder released him. “NEVVVVERRRR!”
“LESHY, FOR STARS SAKE, I AM NOT GOING TO HURT YOU!”
“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!”
“LESHY-!”
“NEVVVVVVERRRRRRR-” The word descended back into wordless screaming. Narinder sighed and decided to just let it happen. Hopefully, by the time they got back to the cult, he would have lost his voice.
“I’ll come visit,” Abahe said, scratching at his ears. “I just need to clean up Darkwood.”
Hopefully, he meant to clean up as in fix the purgatory leaks. Narinder did not want to deal with Leshy throwing a fit if he did something more. “I didn’t ask,” he sighed, turning to the other one. “What about you?”
“I still need to monitor your brother’s condition,” Sclebahe said, his ears perking up when Leshy paused screaming to take a breath. They flopped down when he continued to scream. “So, I’ll suppose I’ll stay within the cult grounds.” Great. Fantastic. When he resurrected his lamb, they would have to be grateful because all of this was dancing on his last nerve.
“They won’t harm Leshy,” Abahe said, as if he needed reassurance that nobody was going to strangle the bagworm. “They’re just after Shamura.”
“Great. I didn’t ask.”
Scritches. He was going to demand so many scritches.