Cormanworth

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Bhuul continued to be on guard; this is where the plan would be most vulnerable.

Charon stood watch, looking for the last traces of Katalina’s grace to fade. “Soon, Katalina’s presence is nearly gone. She can not feed her Hand anything else. We have won.”

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Bhuul turned toward his alley, “Never say we have won until the cat is dead and buried.”

Lincoln G’nisleh directed collecting the Demon Lords’ bones, ordering specific pieces to be placed into individual boxes, and making sure that no single article would be placed with a companion piece.

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Lincoln faced Antonio, “Brother, take Oliver to the Temple for Purification, use all the standard precautions for a spell caster.”

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Antonio pointed at two other Purifiers, “With pleasure, your grace, I hope you will allow me to administer the Ritual of Purification.”

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Lincoln turned back to the objective at hand, “Yes, you worked with him more, and you know even more of his sins against Bhuul. You should be the one.”

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“As you wish your grace, he will be purged of his sins.” Antonio bowed to Bhuul and then to Lincoln. He gestured to two Purifiers on guard duty. The two nodded and followed Antonio as he left the group.

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Andrea

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Andrea’s mind drifted; she pictured Oliver for a moment. His body, lying beside her own. Something with the vision was wrong. He screamed, “Andrea, help me!” Andrea felt her heartbeat, a single thump. A crack of lightning flashed across the dark void.

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Her eyes widened. She can see Oliver’s body strapped to a pole, with strips of flesh missing from his bloody back.

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“Andrea, this is what happens to those who favored the old gods.” Her brother stood with a long black whip, and he cracked the leather again against Oliver’s back. Oliver once again took the pain and screamed as a piece of flesh was torn off.

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She tried to move her hand to help Oliver, and she could not. Her mind was going foggy again. She had no energy left even to move. I’m so tired. I got to help Oliver.

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A light from above caught her eye. Like a star falling, the star left pulsing waves in the wake.

A new voice, intense feminine, and supportive, spoke, “Wake up. It is time for the sleepy one to awake.”

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Another voice spoke, darker something that gave her chills making her hairs stand on end, “I designed your bones. Use them, girl.”

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Yet a third voice chimed a man’s voice commanding and stern, “Who are you?”

Andrea gathered her strength to respond, “I am Andrea.”

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The darker voice, the one that gave her chills, spoke, “NO, she’s dead. Twice now, that weakness died on Bhuul’s altar and once again a moment ago in his devil trap.”

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The third voice replied, “No, you were given a new name. Who are you?”

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“I am.” Andrea’s foggy mind was having a hard time focusing. She weakly spoke, “I am, Ka’Azalin.”

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“Now we are getting somewhere. What are you?”

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The third voice was growing more robust as the falling star came closer.

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Andrea sheepishly said, “I am a demon.”

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The dark menacing voice giving her chills, laughed. “There’s my girl.”

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“No, She’s more than that; that’s your hand, my dear. Ka’Azalin FOCUS,” the female voice chimed in.

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The third voice spoke again, “What are you?”

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“A God,” Andrea spoke again.

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“What are you a god of?” more questions from the third voice.

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“A god of demons.”

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The chilling voice laughed; the female voice made a huffing sound of disapproval.

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The sweet-sounding female huffed, “No, What is the sound you constantly hear? The one that has been with you since the beginning.”

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Andrea could barely hear the chains in the distance. The metal links made only faint chinking. “My chains.”

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The falling star was almost on top of her now. She could see that the star was a short golden blade.

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“Now, Ka’Azalin, who are you?” the third voice asked again.

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She willed herself to reach the falling sword, and the very presence attracted her attention. A chain exploded out of the darkness, wrapping around the golden blade. She could feel the blade’s magic binding to her soul. A rush of power flooded through her being; she felt her body scattered and torn apart.

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Ka’Azalin’s soul cage lit up. Her body was lying in a hundred pieces. Each piece is connected; all I have to do is put the pieces back together. I did it before when I made rain in Cormanworth.

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Torment, the green serpent lying motionless beside the fragmented body, her eyes flared to life, the snake hisses with hunger. “HUNGRY! FEED ME, SOULS!”

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Chains extended from the skies and exploded through the dry river bed. Pieces of her broken body assembled themselves with chains wrapping tightly. Chains dragged Ka’Azalin’s milky white skin up into the sky. Her arms and legs bound in and black chains with crimson blood dripping from the many sliced pieces.

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She shouted with all the air in her lungs. An ambient pink light lit up the surrounding area around her; lightning strikes around the river’s ground. A tree split and exploded when the bolt suddenly vaporized the stored water. A new symbol appeared in the skies above the crucified girl. A pink circled chained fist. The wind raged across the land and howled with the voice of the new god, “I AM Ka’Azalin THE GODDESS OF CHAINS!”

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She heard a final voice, one she had heard before. The giggling sound of a child, “Now, it’s time! Let the next round in the Game of Gods begin! Time for the Immortal Bane to play with Celestial Gods!” Ka’Azalin knew this voice, Joshua the Soul Stone of Chaos.