FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sadik emerged from the earth, bloodied and hollow.

The throne room was silent. Two squads of Sons stood guard at the entrance, while half a dozen more had taken strategic positions around the chamber—bracing against columns, squatting behind statues, burying themselves beneath the curtains of hanging vines. The architecture bristled with sunspears. With nearly eighty men waiting for combat, the silence was as heavy as a tomb.

There were breaks in the quiet. Kavaia knelt over Xaeyr, healing him at a pace so rapid that her flesh hissed and steamed. Thimera moaned into her gag of vines. Amira stood above the bovine goddess, casually aiming a wyrmkiller at her head.

“Try me,” the leopard said. “I dare ya.”

Thimera struggled against her restraints. Blood seeped from the arrow in her thigh.

Above their heads, the Exalted swarmed around the peak of the dome, aggressively throwing clouds of itself against their countermeasures. Every time, it would be repelled by the invisible signal, and, every time, it would begin to stream faster, as if growing frustrated. The second it found a weakness, it would strike, like thousands of devouring flies.

Sadik walked across the dais. His footsteps were wet. When he looked down, he saw that his sandals were still covered in bits of Faustine’s skull. Near to him, the Vizier’s head laid against the braids of a rug. The eyes were glassy, the beak open in shock, the spine still oozing blood from the vertebrae.

The smell of death wafted up to him.

Sadik nearly gagged. He breathed, trying to center himself. For a moment, it felt as if the world was heaving beneath him, as if he was right back in Hisana’s chambers, where it had all began.

Her head on the floor. Blood in the air.

Behind him, the ringing of the life tanks echoed up from the stairs. The machines were sending a warning. He did not know what it meant. At the moment, he did not care. His men would be slaughtering the rest of her clones. Soon, there would be nothing left of her.

Nothing left.

Suddenly, Sadik found himself bending over, spewing the contents of his stomach across the rugs and marble. He vomited until only bile emerged, until every flex of his intestines left him gasping for air. By the end, he was on his hands and knees, his skin pouring with sweat.

“Hoi!” Amira shouted. “You good over there?”

He was tired. Exhausted beyond words.

He wanted it all to end.

Instead, he pushed himself back to his feet, wiping the drool and bile from his lips with a swipe of his arm. “Bring Thimera to the throne. I’ll speak with her now.”

Amira nodded. She gave a low whistle, and a squad of Sons detached from their position, racing over to assist. Together, with their enhanced muscles, they lifted the goddess of pleasure onto their shoulders, carrying her like a crew of sailors would carry their ship across dry land. Thimera screamed in pain.

As his men prepared for interrogation, Sadik made his way to the other side of the dais. “Goddess. How is he?”

Kavaia didn’t respond. Her body had nearly a dozen separate wounds, some as deep as the bone, and it was taking all her concentration just to continue the healing. At the same time, Xaeyr was beginning to stir. His eyes fluttered open, his white-furred limbs grasping at the air. For the first time in days, he showed signs of life.

The god of cataracts was rescued. Faustine had been slain. And the last of the Demokrats were lying dead in a pile, just like they had done to the previous regime.

Operation Fading Dawn was a success.

Now, it was time to turn their attention to other matters.

Thimera was thrown onto the throne of sacrifice. With her hands tied behind her back, and her left leg skewered with an arrow, she ended up slumped against the seat, weakly attempting to right herself. The throne was continually sculpted with soil from the gardens, but, at the moment, the mounds were dry and unpacked, barely forming the shape of a throne. Loose dirt rained upon the floor. It was falling apart, just like the rest of the city.

On the walls, vines began to slither, whispering with leaf and stem. The glass panel flickered to life. Aldunya was watching.

Sadik walked to the throne. With a single bound, he climbed onto Thimera’s lap, placing one foot on the armrest and the other close to the arrow in her leg. She tensed, whimpering into her gag. When Sadik pressed the broken edge of Dusksong against her chest, her eyes grew wide.

“Good evening, goddess,” Sadik said. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Her horns twirled on her end. Despite the fact that he was standing in her lap, Sadik was not much taller than the cow. If she had not been tied and wounded, Thimera could’ve thrown him like a child.

“Do you remember me?” He tilted his head, letting the strands of black hair fall from his face. “I’ve served you wine in this very room. Stood guard at your speeches.”

Thimera only looked back at him.

“I’m going to release your gag,” he continued. “After that, you and I will have a discussion. Your survival depends on your answers. Do you understand?”

She gave a wrenching moan, blood and drool oozing from her snout. When Sadik did not relent, she began to nod.

“Miri. Would you join us?”

Amira leaped onto the throne, taking position on the opposite armrest. “Give the order.”

“If she tries to use her voice,” Sadik said, “or charm me with her beauty, slit her throat.”

The leopard drew her dagger. When she pressed it to Thimera’s neck, the cow stiffened and closed her eyes.

“Give me a reason,” Amira said, her fangs bared. “Lotta fuckin’ misery in your wake, goddess, and I’m eager to see it paid. And, well, bein’ honest, I’ve been living in the sewers too long. Gotten real sick of eating rats and fungus.” She leaned in. “I’d kill for a slab of beef.”

Thimera whined into the gag.

Sadik reached for the back of her head. Before he could pull the gag away, the vines on the wall began to shift once more. Words of light formed on the glass panel, seeming to flicker in a way that begged for his attention.

DO NOT LET HER SPEAK

KILL HER

Sadik paused. He glanced down at Thimera. The cow was looking at him desperately, her flat teeth bared, the brown fur of her muzzle dripping with blood and slabber. Above, the domed ceiling was crawling with vines. Hundreds of stalks, thousands of leaves. They slithered and pulsed, as if watching with great intensity.

The Neheamatt had given him a direct order. Kill a god. Commit deicide. Could he disobey the tree? After everything he had learned, could he allow himself to never know the truth?

What did his decision matter, if he was going to take his own life?

Sadik felt a chill on his skin.

Was that still his plan? Could he die knowing that the real perpetrator was still alive? If Rushan was not vanquished, if the jackal was not brought to justice, then Sadik’s death would only be allowing him to escape with his crimes.

He was tired. Stars above, he was so incredibly tired.

A silence hung in the air, heavy with thought.

“For Ilios,” Sadik said, releasing the gag.

Once her mouth was freed, Thimera stretched the aching muscles of her jaw, groaning and breathing in equal measure. “Oh, mortal, thank you, thank you! A thousand blessings! Any benediction you desire, any comfort I may bring! I—I—I may grant you pleasure beyond any—”

“Silence,” Sadik said.

The goddess of pleasure paused. Her horns twirled on her head, moving with the grace of hair flowing beneath water. Normally, the cow’s face would glow with beauty, her features seeming to subtly change based on the person in front of her, as if molding herself to their desire. Now, her bovine face was ragged, bloody, and scared.

Sadik renewed his grip on Dusksong, keeping the broken tip pressed into her chest. “Tell me about Rushan.”

Her eyes widened. She did not speak.

“Spit it out,” Amira said, tracing her dagger along the collar of Thimera’s neck.

She opened her mouth. Nothing emerged. Slowly, she tried to retreat into the packed dirt of the throne, weakly tugging at her restraints.

Sadik kicked the arrow in her thigh.

Thimera gasped, thrashing beneath him. The movement was so strong that him and Amira nearly went flying from her lap.

“Answer me!” Sadik shouted. “Why do you obey the jackal?”

“I’m scared of him!”

Thimera raised her snout to the ceiling, mewling into the air.

“He is impossible to please! You show him obedience, and he thinks you weak! You show him defiance, and he fells it like a tree! If I stand in his way, if I look at him wrong, if I show the slightest hint of doubt—” She groaned in pain, her words coming as if she’d been holding them for weeks. “He’s struck me for asking questions! For begging a change of heart! He broke my arm just so I would look a victim! Every night, he insists on carnality, and if I don’t pretend to love it, he will pin me to the floor and take his pleasure!”

She met Sadik’s gaze, breathing heavily. Her horns drooped against the sides of her head.

“He asked for my aid,” Thimera said. “And I gave it to him, because I thought his cause was just. But the man is incorrigible! Completely beyond appeasement! He has such a fury in his heart that it swallows all around him!”

Sadik glanced away, settling his gaze upon the dirt and vines. Her voice echoed in his mind.

“Please.” Thimera leaned forward as much as she dared. “I am trapped. He has killed so many, and he plans to kill many more. Hearing him speak my name sends me to terror. Every time he looks at me, I fear my use has finally come to an end. He will slaughter me without mercy, if he . . . if I. . . .”

“If you betray him,” Sadik finished.

She nodded. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

Sadik glanced at Amira. The leopard still held her dagger to Thimera’s throat, though she did seem to pull back in thought.

He met Thimera’s eyes again. His anger seemed to melt away. “If you tell us everything you know, I will consider granting you shelter. Rushan is mighty, but he cannot—”

“Stop,” Kavaia said.

The crocodile rose back to her feet. The green armor she wore was stained with blood and covered in burns, the places where her flesh had reconstituted so quickly that it had scorched the cloth. She looked as if she had been used as a practice dummy on a sunbeam firing range.

“I warned you.” Kavaia limped forward, her teeth gritted in pain. “When Rushan tried to take you in my stead, I came to you in private. I told you what a man he was.”

Thimera blinked, suddenly afraid. “That is not—”

“You laughed in my face! Told me I was foolish for showing jealousy!” Kavaia began to poorly imitate Thimera’s voice, barely changing her deep contralto tone. “‘A cold scale could never warm his heart. All the world wants pleasure, not death.’”

“R-ridiculous!” Thimera squirmed in her seat. “You don’t know her like we do, mortals! That was always Kivie! Never made friends, never held a kind word! What was I to believe?”

Kavaia sneered. “You thought you were better. Believed you could control the jackal with honeyed words and pleasant smiles. Tell me, Thimera, is the seat of power worth the blood on your thighs?”

Behind the throne, the vines began to rustle. A new message appeared on the panel.

SHE IS SEDUCING YOU

Sadik blinked. Thimera’s words were echoing in his mind, coiling around his thoughts. He felt compelled to look at her. When he did, she seemed a hidden gem of beauty, the blood and fear only highlighting the divine perfection. He could not imagine a prettier face.

She was using her powers. Slowly, subtly. The charms had come with such deftness that he almost had not noticed their effects.

Sadik gripped the arrow in her thigh. When he began to pull, she gave a breathless gasp. When he began to yank the arrow in long, jerking motions, her entire body flexed in shock. By the time Sadik ripped the wyrmkiller clean from her leg, Thimera was thrashing upon the throne, completely lost in agony. Kavaia was forced to limp forward and use her strength to pin the goddess down.

“No more games,” Sadik said, tossing the arrow aside. He twisted Dusksong’s haft. A sunbeam bulged at her mouth, less than an inch from scorching Thimera’s fur. “What is Rushan planning?”

Thimera began to cry. There were whimpers and snot, blood and tears.

“What is he planning?”

The goddess of pleasure began to wail in pain.

Sadik pulled Dusksong back, preparing to thrust the edge of his beam.

“I don’t know!” Thimera shouted. “Please!”

“Don’t lie to me, goddess. My patience is waning.”

“I am his tool! He tells me nothing!”

“You gotta know something,” Amira said, leaning into her face. “Otherwise, there ain’t fuck all reason to keep you breathin’.”

“Sir!” shouted one of the sergeants, a four-eyed serval standing guard at the entrance of the room. “Movement outside!”

Sadik caught his breath. “Contact?”

“Don’t know! It was bright, whatever it was!”

Gidros. The new god of the sun. The rhinoceros was still prowling the palace, hunting for any survivors of the massacre. With a chill, Sadik remembered the barracks they had passed through. A slaughter left in his wake. Warhammer, sunbeams, radiant wings.

“Sir!” shouted another Son, pointing up.

Above their heads, the lone Exalted had been joined by another. It was difficult to tell how many. Before, there had seemed to be a loose breeze of sand flowing against the ceiling—now, there were entire clouds of the gray metal creatures, throwing themselves against the countermeasures like a sandstorm against panes of glass. Most of the Sons huddled together, gazing in fear and wonder.

Thimera continued to weep beneath him. Her tears were loud and mewling.

His men had not returned from the life tanks. Were they done culling the clones? Had some problem arisen, instead? Sadik remembered the warning blaring from the tanks, whose meaning he did not recognize. With all the noise and motion around him, he realized that he had completely lost track of the room below. The beeping had ended. Was that a good sign?

A monkey’s whine filled the air.

Xaeyr rose to his feet, his movements shaking and weak. Physically, the baboon had recovered from his flaying—his face was pink, his cream-colored fur was bright, and his long, thin tail curled with renewed vigor. Even the moon above his head, shattered into pieces as it was, seemed to spin all the faster.

He was also completely naked.

Kavaia released her grip on Thimera, straightening herself. “Xae? Are you well?”

He looked at the gathering of gods and mortals, blinking. Even with his wounds gone, he had experienced agony for days on end, and the memory of the pain could not be healed as quickly as the flesh. He seemed blinded by every sensation.

Kavaia limped her way to him. She was bleeding, burned, and exhausted, but, once she reached the god of cataracts, she pulled him into a gentle embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We should not have left you.”

Xaeyr began to blink faster. After a moment, he returned the hug, the moon above his head beginning to tilt and wane. He loosed another high-pitched whine, fighting back tears.

They continued to embrace. The room watched in silence. When Thimera began to moan, Amira used both paws to force her snout shut.

Eventually, Kavaia pulled back, trying not to hiss at the pain of her wounds. “Please forgive me. It was my failure that saw you here, and I would take your torture a hundred times over to set it right.” She squeezed his arm. “Anything I can do.”

Xaeyr opened his mouth. After several failed attempts, he finally said: “Who are you?”

Kavaia widened her eyes. “Do you not . . . recognize me? Has the flaying. . . .”

“No,” Xaeyr said. “I mean, who are you, and what have you done with the Kivie I used to know?” He wiped his eyes and attempted to smile. “Because the goddess I remember was as cold as the corpses she left behind. About as pleasant to speak to, as well.”

She breathed out, both relieved and irritated.

“You must be some imitation. You’re not skulking in the shadows. Paint has not peeled beneath your gaze.” He pretended to stroke his chin in thought. “Perhaps I could bring children here and see if they still scream in fear.”

“My word, Xae,” Kavaia said, a grimace crawling along her snout. “Speak any further, and some may think you happy to see me.”

Xaeyr cleared his throat, wiped his eyes again, and leaned to the side. “Is that you over there, Sadik?”

He gave a quick bow, balancing on Thimera’s lap. “At your service, my lord.”

“Did you fuck her full of warmth? Is that truly all it took?”

“True divinity is found within. Perhaps I knocked something loose.”

Xaeyr barked out a laugh. Kavaia gave them both a look of great displeasure.

“‘Scuse me,” Amira said. She grabbed one of Thimera’s horns, holding her dagger in the other hand. “Appreciate you just got your balls sown back in place, but we’re in the middle of somethin’ here.”

Xaeyr straightened himself. With renewed vigor, he gave Kavaia a hug of his own. He seemed more alive with every passing moment. “We’ll speak later. For now—thank you.”

Kavaia gave a soft breath of relief, then nodded.

The baboon released the goddess of death and began to make his way to the throne, still utterly naked.

“Sir,” Amira said. “Big swingin’ cock, incoming.”

“I see it, thank you.”

Xaeyr placed his hands on the armrests of the throne. With his massive stature, Sadik felt as if he had a fuzzy white tree leaning above his head. “Allow me to join. I think she’ll speak to me.”

Thimera squirmed against the dirt. Now that attention had returned to her, she seemed uncertain of what to do—continue to weep, writhe in pain, or glare in anger.

The baboon focused his shattered moon. The pieces of debris began to quicken their orbit above his head, and a pale light shined down on Thimera’s face, constantly shifting in her eyes. “Now, Thimera, dear, you stupid harlot, I’m sure that none of us could beat you as well as the jackal, but I’d like you to remember all the friends I threw from the branches of our favorite tree. Their fates were merciful compared to yours.”

Thimera’s horns began to sharpen.

“At least they had dignity,” Xaeyr said, sneering. “You remember what that’s like, don’t you?”

“Murderer!” Thimera cried. “Worthless traitor! If only the Exalted had flayed your mind and rid us of your wit!”

Xaeyr curled his lip. “Sadik, would you mind if I punched her?”

“By all means, my lord.”

Sadik stepped onto the armrest. Xaeyr punched Thimera straight in the snout. The blow was so strong that her head shattered a piece of the throne behind her, sending dirt raining upon the marble floor. The cow’s face, already injured from a previous blow, began to weep blood in earnest.

“Nice punch,” Amira said.

“Thank you,” Xaeyr replied, shaking his hand. “I’ve been waiting days for that.”

Thimera tilted her chin into her chest. With the blood drooling from her mouth, and even more seeping from her leg, she seemed to be growing fatally weak.

Xaeyr raised his hand. A wordless pressure passed through the air. Slowly, the blood around Thimera began to flow back into her body. Tendrils of red squirmed up her thigh, while wet, scarlet pools evaporated from her dress. Every ounce of liquid she had lost was returned to her, including the drool on her lips and the tears in her eyes, rushing for the holes in her flesh like insects fleeing for shelter. Xaeyr raised his hand toward her face, and, in seconds, she began to blink with vigor, as if a rush of blood had entered her brain.

He was the god of cataracts. Rivers, waterfalls, and floodplains. As such, he could control water with a wave of his hand. Even the water held in blood.

The vines rustled again. A new series of words appeared on the glass panel.

YOU ARE IN GRAVE DANGER

KILL HER

RETREAT

Thimera blinked rapidly, as if awoken from sleep. There were many faces staring down at her, and she did not know which to meet.

“Goddess,” Sadik said. “You said something earlier. ‘I offered Rushan my aid because his cause was just.’”

Thimera took a slow breath, preparing herself.

“Fuck it,” Amira said. “Kill her. I’m sick of this shit.”

“Yes,” Thimera said. She looked Sadik right in the eye, with no beauty or timbre to her words. “His cause is just. Worth almost any price.”

Amira used her dagger to scrape the fur on her neck. “Any price? That include your cunt? Your conscience?”

Thimera nodded as best as she could. “Even my soul.”

There was a pile of bodies in the throne room. A city held in famine and martial law. A pantheon of gods subverted from within.

Hisana’s head.

“What is it?” Sadik said, bracing his sword. “What cause could he possibly have to wage war against Aldunya? To murder Ilios?”

“Rushan did not murder Ilios,” Thimera replied. “It was Aldunya.”

The vines recoiled. All around the room, the curtains of leaves and stems began to shudder away, shifting and slithering. Susurrations rained down from every direction.

“Ridiculous!” Xaeyr shouted. “Silty marsh, you’ll say any lie to save your horns!”

Thimera began to thrash beneath him, anger rising upon her face. “It’s true! She killed the falcon! She strung his body for all to see!”

Words flashed on the glass panel. They rolled over each other, scrolling down and down, every letter as bright as a torch.

KILL HER

KILL HER

KILL HER

“Sir!” shouted the sergeant again. “Contact! Moving closer!”

“Ilios was the best of us,” Kavaia said, leaning in from the side. “Aldunya would never slay the falcon.”

“She has killed gods before,” Thimera replied.

“As punishment!” Xaeyr shouted. “Not for selfish gain, like the madman you’ve brought to power!”

Thimera gave a grim smile. “Are you sure of this?”

The room was a chaos of motion. Dozens of Sons rushed to new positions, bristling with spears and body mods. Several Exalted swarmed above their heads, so thick in the air that they seemed a storm of metal. The air erupted with the sound of stomping boots, glittering metal, and a symphony of rustling leaves.

“Rushan stood trial for Ilios’ murder,” Thimera said. “He was the first accused, brought to tribunal so quickly that the blood had barely dried. Did you not wonder why that was?”

Kavaia sneered. “Because his bloodlust is matched only by his arrogance. Only he could’ve taken Ilios in combat.”

“He was framed!” Thimera tried to rise from the throne, but Sadik and Amira pressed her down. “Lanir examined his soul, just as she did for you! And she saw the truth in his words! He did not kill Ilios!”

Kavaia bared her teeth. Xaeyr pulled back in thought. Sadik remembered his time in the pantheon. Everything he had been told.

Rushan had stood trial for the murder of the sun. Despite the evidence, he had been exonerated for the crime, even with Lanir measuring the truth of every word. The jackal’s opponents assumed that he had used some nefarious means to earn his innocence—some sleight of hand, some trick or deception. Sadik had been so furious at the sight of Ilios’ tortured body that even he had not questioned the series of events.

But how could he lie with Lanir peering into his soul? Both Sadik and Kavaia had been subjected to her examination. The dragon could sense every false inflection, every twist of the word. Lying to her would be as difficult as smothering the sun in a blanket.

No one had considered the obvious. Rushan had been telling the truth.

He had not killed Ilios.

Sadik felt his heart skip a beat. The sound of leaves swirled around him. When he looked up, he saw the vines racing along the curved stone walls, rising and falling like the bubbling froth of the ocean. Their movements were wild. Uncontrolled.

Suddenly, Rushan’s words echoed in his mind.

See how she squirms. Do you feel her fear?

The glass panel was a rushing stream of light. The words appeared so quickly that they seemed to slash the air.

PRESERVATION

ANY COST

WE ARE NOT ABANDONED

“It was some weeks ago,” Thimera said. “Ilios approached Rushan, saying that Aldunya wished to speak with both of them. He did not know what she desired, but he said the matter was to be kept with the utmost secrecy. Rushan complied. He had fought beside Ilios on the battlefield. They were friends. Together, they travelled to the higher branches.”

Thimera looked away. Sadik glanced at the entrance to the secret stairway. He did not see any sign of his men returning from their task. Broth on their armor, flesh on their blades. They should’ve killed Faustine’s clones by now. Where were they?

It was all happening too fast.

“I don’t know what occurred during their meeting,” Thimera said, “but, whatever it was, it changed both for the worse. Ilios was crestfallen, and Rushan was furious beyond words. Their hearts were blackened. Rushan told me: ‘she sits on a throne of lies’.”

LIES

LIES

LOSING CONTROL

Radiant light shined through the windows of the dome. Bright feathers, glowing skin.

Gidros. Had he spotted them?

“Sir!” shouted one of the sergeants.

“She wanted to bring them into her confidence,” Thimera said, tugging at her restraints. “Instead, they formed a pact against her. They said that they had to turn against the Neheamatt, for the sake of Acheron. Rushan began to act covertly. Brewing a revolution. Turning the loyalty of the gods. He did everything he could to weaken her control. And, once she discovered this, she had Ilios flayed to the bone, and Rushan accused of the crime.” Thimera gave a humorless snort. “She had to cover her tracks.”

Rushan’s words echoing again. The speech he had given to the Vizier.

She murdered Ilios when he turned against her! It’s nothing but a calculation in her eyes!

Amira leaned off the throne, shouting orders to the men. Xaeyr blinked in shock. Kavaia almost gave a prayer.

The vines roiled. They slithered with their stems, screamed with their leaves. The glass panel was growing brighter and brighter. Overloading with power.

LOSING CONTROL

LOSING CONTROL

CONTROL CONTROL CONTROL

CONTROLCONTROLCONTROLCONTROLCONTROL

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

The power surged. The glass exploded. Shards rained across the rugs and marble, while metal wires hung from the panel like intestines, twisted and smoking. Around them, the vines on the wall began to wither down to the stone, losing all their strength.

“She is dying,” Thimera said. She tugged at her restraints again, working them hard, daring any to look in her eyes. “And it is her own doing. The Metal Plague is rampant Glimmer. Her own creation killing her from within. Just like the gods.”

“Contact!” screamed a sergeant.

The doors to the throne room were kicked open, flying off their hinges. Gidros rushed into the room. His skin was glowing, his great feathered wings as bright as the sun, and he was already swinging the massive warhammer in his hands, smashing several men in a single blow.

Bodies poured from the secret stairway. Faustine. Dozens of her. Some a perfect copy, many partially grown. Melted skin. Exposed organs. Fangs and claws, blood and fur, limbs upon limbs. They flooded into the chamber, like victims of the plague rushing in a mob.

Thimera pushed herself from the throne, sending Sadik and Amira spiraling to the floor. Her arms came out to her side, her restraints dangling from her wrists. She had slipped her bonds. With a flash of beauty, she began to sing.

The room filled with violence.