FSE

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The streets were still and quiet in the pre-dawn darkness, save for the clacking of talons against cobblestone. Mokkah hummed a cheerful tune to herself, keeping in time with each step as the little kobold made her way to work. She kept her cape pulled tight against the cold, holding on to the warmth stolen from her lover’s home. That would last her until she could bask the blissful heat of the bakery’s ovens. It wasn’t far now, and she could already imagine the sweet smells.

As Mokkah entered the storefront, she felt a hint of that warmth emanating from the kitchen. She hung up her cape behind the counter, and began preparing to meet another busy day. An unnatural chill teased her nerves as she neared the door, but she had long since become accustomed to the sensation.

“Good morning!” The kobold called through the door as she tidied up the counter. She paused a moment to listen for the usual response; the deliberate clanging of pots and pans. It never came.

“{Good morning, Child of Zeelee.}”

The words resonated and echoed in her head, felt as much as heard. Mokkah froze, heart beating against her chest like a drum. Never had she known such voice-thought before, but it betrayed the nature of its speaker nonetheless. She turned slowly, looking over her shoulder at the door. The day had finally come, and it was already too late to run.

“No…” Her heart sank as she whispered to herself.

“{Come. It is warm here… and I would speak with you.}”

It was undeniably a command, in spite of its gentle tone. With a deep, shaky breath, she tried and failed to steel her nerves. She reached up to the door, and hesitated. It felt immense, an immovable weight for one so small. Yet, it swung open with ease when she finally pressed against it. Warm air swept over her as she shielded her eyes from the bright light.

As her sight adjusted, an incredibly tall figure stood before her, his deep red and gold-trimmed robes flowing gently in some unknowable, otherworldly breeze. They hung open, exposing the dark fur of the wolf’s chest, plain but for the divine markings that glowed with a teal light. His canine features were framed by the close-fitting hood he wore. Here, too, the symbols glowed. Despite the blindfold covering his eyes, he looked directly at her, his expression blank and inscrutable.

The unseen eyes peered into her soul, and she felt naked like never before. Exposed to the sensations of… warmth, and comfort. They begged her to let down her guard. She hadn’t lasted this long by so easily indulging temptation, however. Even with years of safety and good fortune at her back, the instinct to resist gripped her tightly. No pleasantry could distract her from why he was here, and she could only imagine how great his anger must be. Rather than send one of his agents, he saw fit to handle the matter himself.

“Lord Agrisi-” She began, but the deity stopped her with a calmly raised hand, then gestured for her sit at the nearby table. She obeyed, with her back straight and hands in her lap, keeping her eyes low. The wolf sat across from her, threading his fingers together and resting his hands on the table. Before him sat a single plate with a half-eaten pastry.

“{You… have left a long trail of transgressions in your wake.}” He spoke with a calm, oddly conversational tone. “{Even at this very moment, you flout my most sacred decree.}”

The little kobold opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the words, nor the nerve to argue. There was no denying her guilt, and she hung her head in silent resignation. She had not expected her death sentence to be carried out so casually, all things considered.

“{Your… friends, have made the effort to defend you, adamant that I hear you out. They… do not understand. I cannot make clear to them that their efforts are in vain, and your fate is already decided.}” He spoke like a weary-but-loving parent, tilting his head as though far away in thought. That warm gaze fell on her again, his words a little lighter as he continued. “{However, being humored puts them at ease, and has… other benefits.}” He said, tapping his finger near the plate.

With her attention drawn to that, Mokkah’s narrow focus on the deity relaxed. The sounds of the kitchen faded in around her, everything running as it should. The crackling of fires, the clinking of dishes, the clacking of bones. Her helpers had been content to carry on their work, as though there were no god in their midst, waiting to avenge them. Mokkah’s eyes darted between him and the little reanimated skeletons. She felt an impulse building, but the wolf halted her before she could know its intent.

“{Leave them be. At the moment, we are concerned with you.}” He said, then assumed a demeanor of authority, changing his tone to match. “{To disturb the dead is to violate a most personal boundary, and demands a swift and severe punishment. To do so repeatedly should have that punishment delivered on sight and without question.}”

There it is, she thought; the anger rising to the surface. The accumulated wrath of every offense he’d uncovered on his way to her.

“{Should.}” His tone shifted with the word, switching from cold detachment to intrigue. “{However, a curious story has unfolded in following your path, and in speaking with the souls in my care whom you have… borrowed.}” His head tilted slightly, which Mokkah took to indicate her ‘helpers’. “{While I have found many of its scattered chapters, it seems only you know its beginning. So tell me, Child; what drove you to these dark magics?}”

Mokkah let her gaze fall to the table, hands still in her lap. A cold tingling coiled around the base of her skull, and she felt her blood begin to heat. Each breath became quicker and deeper than the last. A long-dead terror began winding itself tightly in her stomach. Memories of the beast began to flash in her mind.

The disappointment in the wolf’s voice finally hit, and her veins ignited, sparking a flame in her heart. It was a fire she had only known once; right before the dragon died. It roared to life, burning away her terror as she raised her head and fixed a defiant glare on the deity. Tears welled in her eyes as she drew a slow, deep breath, sitting as straight and proud as she could.

“Cruelty.” She said firmly, a slight falter in her voice. “Survival.” Her head tipped down again, but her gaze remained fixed. Her features hardened, and in a low voice, she spat. “...Justice.”

The deity tilted his head to one side, but said nothing. Mokkah’s posture relaxed, a thoughtful look on her face. She watched her friends still toiling away at their duties, and her expression softened.

“They couldn’t tell you what really happened, could they? They wouldn’t understand.” She spoke quietly, hands fidgeting on her lap. “Few of us did, and they never lasted long. I won’t… bore you with the details, but we were slaves – and cattle – held by a dragon. One that made his peers look saintly.”

“{It seems a rather selfish method of escape.}”

“No.” Mokkah said pointedly, looking into the deity’s blindfolded face once more. “I did not escape. We were freed.” With another deep breath, her voice filled again with strength. “You wanted to know why, and I am telling you.” She glanced again at her friends, and her words became heated. “I did it to save us all from living worthless lives, serving the luxury and appetite of some monster.” Unable to hold them any longer, tears began streaming down her cheek, her voice breaking under the weight of her words. “And to avenge the ones I couldn’t.”

A moment of horrible silence passed, punctuated only by the kobold’s occasional sniffling. Bringing his hands up, the wolf created a support for his chin, a clear sign he was waiting for her to continue.

“The dragon is gone.” Mokkah’s features hardened again, this time into a grim frown. “_I watched until the very end, and I admit I found… an _obscene amount of satisfaction… in watching thousands of teeth and claws rip their vengeance from his body. And our freedom with it.” The fire within her burned bright and hot as the memory flashed in her mind. But the flames died down as she came back to herself. Back to her kitchen, where the wolf god waited to mete out his own justice.

“I knew that, in the end, I was just trading one fate for another.” Her gaze fell to the table. “But I’d do it again, every time. For them.” She nodded toward her friends.

“{And the times after?}” Agrisi pressed.

“Maybe it was a mistake to keep going, but if once is enough, I was already damned.” Her voice was soft, but still rebellious. “I saw no point in just... letting myself die. Every ‘transgression’ saw me to another day. I tried my best to be as respectful, and sparing, as I could. And I never imposed my will.” She spoke with a firm tone. “...Even when it cost me. I-” The words caught in her throat, and there was a silent moment as she tried to compose herself.

The wolf turned his head, prompting one of the reanimated skeletons to scurry away from its work. They returned, placing a cup of water in front of Mokkah, encouraging her to drink. As she did, the deity carefully picked up the pastry, taking a large bite.

“{How?}” He asked, more inquiry than demand. When Mokkah frowned, and tilted her head, he elaborated. “{One does not casually stumble upon the forces of life and death. Least of all someone in the predicament you describe.}”

“There was a book…” She explained, his meaning becoming clear. She stared past him as she recalled. “In the hoard. An old tome that the others avoided. Said to whisper madness into one’s mind. Baseless superstition, in hindsight. But it did have an aura of powerful magic, and I always was too curious for my own good.”

“{And you could read this book?}” The wolf sounded skeptical.

“Not all of us were born into the… circumstances. The towns and villages nearby would send my kind as offerings. Or as punishment.” She sneered at the thought. “Most of them could read and write, and always tried to teach the rest of us. They were the ones who understood; the ones that didn’t last. Them, and those who were brave and foolish enough to follow. But curiosity and desperation are a volatile mix, and heartbreak makes a potent catalyst.” She wiped away her drying tears, fighting with her face as it threatened twist into uncontrollable sobbing.

To her surprise, the wolf reached out, offering her a small cloth, matching his robes. She hesitated, looking from the cloth to the wolf with uncertainty. He did not move, simply waited. Mokkah considered the small square of crimson fabric, unsure of how she felt. It seemed almost blasphemous to touch, never mind wipe her face with it. A funny thing to think, it occurred to her, given what got her here. With a healthy amount of caution, she reached up and took hold of the cloth. It slipped easily from the wolf’s fingers, and he pulled his hand away. She pressed the cloth gently to her face, soaking up the tears.

“We made our own family, as you might guess,” Mokkah explained, “and when I lost mine, I… I gave in. I had so little to lose. Obviously I didn’t know any better than to read aloud, and inadvertently opened myself to the real whispering.”

“{Whispering?}”

“Countless generations of my slaughtered kin.” Mokkah composed herself, but couldn’t help her sniffling. “Restless in the mountain, crying out for peace. Bloody, vengeful peace.”

“{And them?}”

“They…” Mokkah began, glancing again at her friends. “They wouldn’t go back.” she said, soft and quiet. “No matter how hard I tried to convince them, they wanted to stay. They seem happy...” She watched them, still darting around the kitchen, tireless. A sadness fell across her face. “...don’t they?”

The deity was quiet. A shaking had begun in Mokkah’s hands, gripping the cloth tightly. It threatened to spread across her body.

“{This book. You still possess it.}”

“...I do.” Mokkah admitted.

“{Bring it to me.}”

One of the skeletons hopped to attention, as if called, but hesitated. It seemed increasingly nervous as it looked back and forth between them. Its claws tapped together and it bounced in place on its feet. A look of pained sympathy came over Mokkah’s face, as she’s realized the issue.

“It’s okay.” She assured with quick nodding. “Go.”

Relieved, the little undead gave an enthusiastic nod back, and ran off. Despite feeling like the eternity that surely awaited, it was only gone a few minutes. Just long enough for the deity to finish his pastry. Wrapped tightly in a pair of bony arms, the tome was nearly the size of the kobold’s torso. It was old and tattered, bound in dark leather with no markings, and simple metal caps protecting the corners. The latch that held it shut was clearly a later addition. They shuffled across the room, stopping beside the wolf, who took the book gingerly with one hand. The little skeleton turned its head toward Mokkah, and she gave it a small smile and a nod. It seemed quite pleased with itself as it ran back to its work.

Agrisi held the book open in his palm, the pages flipping front to back on their own, faster than one could possibly read. Several pages ripped themselves from the binding, scattering into dust as they flew upward. He snapped the book shut as the last pages turned, then set it on the table to one side.

“{I believe that is the final loose end. You may join us now.}” At his request, the little helpers carefully set aside their work and rushed over to the table. They sat to either side of Mokkah with great purpose, each grabbing onto an arm. The wolf stood, assuming an air of authority as he towered over the small creatures before him. His mortal guise faded, leaving only a skeletal wolf beneath the robes. His presence chilled the room. He did not look down at her.

“{Mokkah, Child of Zeelee,}” Agrisi spoke in a firm, deliberate manner, “{you are accused of intruding upon the domain of life and death, disturbing the divine rest of the dead, and flouting my sacred decree. Your guilt is proven beyond doubt, and you shall be punished in accordance with your actions. Do you understand?}”

The kobold swallowed hard, and could only whisper through shallow breaths. “Yes.” She did not break her gaze, however, steadied by the friends clinging tightly to her.

“{Good. Have you any final words before judgment?}”

Mokkah thought carefully about what she might say, and how. The back of her scalp tingled and her blood felt cold as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. With a steely resolve she set her eyes on the wolf, staring into that crimson cloth for what felt like the final time.

“I don’t regret choosing to live.” Mokkah said in calm, though shaky voice. “Not that it matters. You said as much. So just… do it.”

“{As you wish.}” Agrisi stood silent for a moment, as if waiting, before calmly returning to his seat. The black fur returned, warmth and comfort radiating from the wolf once again. He placed his elbows on the table, threading his fingers together and resting his chin on his hands, then spoke gently.

“{I find great comfort,}” he began in a soft, almost weary voice, “{in knowing the story is true. That you are indeed the anomaly you seemed. You show great respect for the spirit of my law, if not the word.}” The last part sounded faintly jovial. “{You placed me in a difficult position, and my decision was not easy.}”

“I don’t-” Mokkah began with a frown, but a raised hand cut her off. The wolf sat back in his seat, fingertips on the edge of the table.

“{This is not a typical situation, but neither can I ignore it. However, the decision has been made, and is final.}”

The kobold’s frown remained, mixing with uncertainty.

“{So long as you maintain your current practices, and the respect you have shown thus far, I shall allow you to continue.}”

The words didn’t even process for her, at first. It didn’t seem real. He couldn’t have just said what she heard. But the truth slowly seeped into her mind, hitting her like a narcotic. She felt herself becoming lighter, like a great weight was sliding off her scales. The profound relief must have shown clearly on her face, as the wolf god saw fit to bring her back to reality.

“{Before you celebrate, there are further conditions. Should you be discovered, you are offered no protection. I will not have you encouraging others to your ways, however compassionate. You shall have oversight, you will be required to report to an agent, and you may be called upon to do works in my name. Do you understand these terms?}”

“Y-yes.” Mokkah affirmed, quickly adding, “Yes, my lord.”

“{Good. Remain still.}” The wolf god reached across the table, and though the urge struck her fiercely, Mokkah did not pull away. He pressed the tip if his finger against her forehead, and while nothing apparent happened, the reanimated kobolds seemed fascinated at what they saw. “{My agents shall not harm you. Still, you are strongly advised not to test them.}” His tone was serious as he pulled away. “{There is a church at the edge of the city. There you will find one whom I trust greatly. She will be your shepherd. Seek her out, soon.}”

“Yes, my lord, I will.” Mokkah bowed her head. “Thank you, my lord.”

“{We may yet speak again, my child. For now I shall take my leave.}” Agrisi stood, staff manifesting in his hand.

“The book, my lord?” Mokkah said, pushing it toward him.

“{You may keep it.}” He replied. “{I have rendered it inoffensive, but what remains may still serve you. Even so, keep it safe.}”. He made his way toward a shadowy corner of the room then paused, somehow thoughtful despite his blank expression. There was a hint of sorrow in his voice when he spoke again. “{Consider it a reward for a good deed… and my apology for opening an old wound. As to your question; yes, they do indeed seem quite happy.}”

The remark caught her off-guard. She looked down at her friends, still holding tightly to each arm. Tears again welled in her eyes as she pulled them in closer.

“{And Child…}” He began, looking over his shoulder before fading into the darkness. His final words echoed in her mind. “{I have faith in you.}”