You may be aware I made a little world-building blog about the history, culture, and language of the Hikaran people not too long ago. Or maybe you aren’t. Either way, it was a super short version of everything I created on that culture and I posted that first for it kinda has a purpose linking to today's blog post.I once wrote a fantasy short story taking place in the Hikaran capital city of Bal’Thor on the planet Spira revolving the gods that looked over the land. It was my first time writing a fantasy, and though it could be improved, I am still pleased with how most of it turned out.So, today, I’m going to share with you this story. It is done in three parts and today's post will be of part one. Be on the lookout for parts two and three!The Final Fight: War Of The Gods
by
A.M. Molloy
PART ONE:
Into Darkness
A shaking hand, covered with the blood of torture and silt, weakly raised to the air, begging to be grasped by a savior. Its owner gasped for air among the deadly toxins surrounding him. He was soon buried by another victim of suffering. All around the vast wasteland lay thousands of bodies of various races, all screaming to be released from their torment.
Among the figures walked a large beast. His body was mostly the shape of a Hikaran, but on his head he bore two large horns and pointed ears. His legs tapered into equestrian-like appendages, his tail long with a tuff of black fur at the end, and on his back were large, leathery, wings as black as the night sky. He was bald, save for the black puff of hair growing on his chin and his skin and eyes matched the blackness of his wings.
The beast scowled in disgust at his surroundings.
"Pathetic creatures," he spat, crushing an old Deskravesk man with his hoof.
He waved his hand and shot black flames at the dammed, setting thousands on fire.
"Zemir!" called an angelic voice.
Zemir glowered, the muscles in his arms twitching. He clenched his hands into fists and spun around to face the voice.
"What say you, Kidaha?" Zemir's voice boomed. "You've no business in my realm. Speak and be gone."
For everything Zemir was, Kidaha was the exact opposite. She was as radiant as the sun and adorned in bright white clothing.
"I seek no ill towards you, Lord of the Underworld. I've come on behalf of Shinoda to sum—"
A dark flame erupted around Zemir's being and his wings flared. "You dare speak his name in my presence?"
"I beg of you to hear me out," Kidaha pleaded.
Zemir waved a black hand, his tail swishing in annoyance.
"The High Lord Shinoda has requested your audience immediately. He fears you are abusing your position as ruler of this realm."
"The High Lord Shinoda," Zemir scoffed. "That old fool hasn't lifted a finger to help any of us gods in centuries. He has no right to sit as part of the three High Gods. None of them have that honour. Shiesta and Ouganda are just as guilty. It comes as a surprise they would think I am abusing my power when I've done nothing but my duty since the day I came into existence." Zemir crossed his arms, his chest puffed out. "I'll see your High God. I've business I wish to discuss."
"I pray you come at once then, Lord Zemir."
"In time, Lady Kidaha. I must see to my wife before I depart to The Heavens. She is with child."
Kidaha's eyes widened. "The goddess of air was fertile?"
"Never underestimate the miracles a god can do," Zemir reminded with a sly grin upon his face. With one fell swoop of his massive wings, Zemir took flight and left the bright Kidaha behind.
Before long, the god of the underworld found himself in his chambers, where his wife was tending to her duties. He stood watching her graceful movements as she conjured up the correct breathing air needed for the day on the planet Spira. Her pale blue skin gave off a white aura as she waved her arms around in wide circles. A smile peeked through Zemir's lips as he glanced at his wife's midriff, where a small bump was beginning to form.
"Mehélia, my love. Might I have a word?"
Without a glance, the goddess of air spoke. "Speak, my love."
"I've been called to The Heavens. Shinoda seeks words with me."
Mehélia turned her head, revealing a face with hollowed-out eyes and no image of a mouth. "What need has he of you, my love?"
"To pass on his wisdom, no doubt." Zemir took a step towards his wife. "Yet I've a different motive for going. If it pleases you, I will share when I return."
Mehélia turned her gaze back towards The Heavens. "And why may that be?"
A mischievous grin crept up upon Zemir's face. "For when I return, I will change The Heavens."
*****
Shinoda was a large god, made of metal, symbolizing the fabric of creation. He had been around since the dawn of time with the other High Gods; Ouganda, a falcon-headed humanoid god, and Shiesta, a black dragon-like god. Each of the three High Gods ruled over the gods and goddesses of Spira.
When Zemir finally made his presence known to the High Gods, his entire core shook with blind rage. It was no secret that he and the other gods did not see eye to eye.
"Zemir," called Shinoda, the leader of the High Gods. "It has come to our attention that your care for the departed souls has gone astray."
Zemir hissed. "My Lord Shinoda—"
"Silence." Ouganda waved a slender hand. "Your High God speaks."
"In light of the situation, we set forth that you shall live among the mortals so that you may see their pain and suffering in life. You must gain compassion, Zemir. The underworld is a place for the damned, yes, but their souls are not to be maimed."
"This is an outrage!" yelled Zemir. "Those who reside in my realm are whores and criminals, those who Sinaz deems unfit for the joyous afterlife in The Heavens. You can't expect me to treat them with dignity."
"I can and you will." Shinoda's eyes blazed with fire. "They may be dammed from eternal salvation and rebirth, but that does not mean they are to suffer any further from the hands of the one meant to teach them compassion."
"My Lord Shinoda," Zemir spat. "Compassion is something I know not for those who were condemned to spend eternity in the underworld. How I rule my realm is not for you to decide. This role I play was your gift that you so charitably bestowed upon me if you so recall."
"Do not question my judgment, Zemir!" Shinoda exclaimed, standing to full height, with strong, unblinking eye contact. "You will live amongst the mortals. Take leave now and do as I command."
Zemir's lips twitched with fury, his nails digging into his clenched fist. "As you wish," he said, with his eyes shooting daggers at the other gods.
*****
"Fear not, my love, for I will not go," Zemir informed Mehélia. His gentle touch brought shivers up her spine. "I've other arrangements instead."
"My husband, you cannot disobey the High Gods. It's never been done. You must do as they say."
"Do not worry about the High Gods for they will not be so high and mighty much longer."
Mehélia took hold of her husband's hands, concern in her voice. "What talk is this? You would go against Lord Shinoda's wishes?"
"I would." Zemir caressed his lover’s hands. "Hear me as I speak. I grow tired of this life," he began, fire burning in his blood. "I wish to overthrow the High Gods. For too long have we gods suffered under their negligence. Lord Shinoda himself puts too much effort and time into protecting the lost goddess of magic, Aowyne. Lord Shiesta has not lifted a claw in years to answer prayers and instead spends his time perfecting the art of tea making, as if it is a task important to a god! Heaven only knows what Ouganda does.
Do you not tire of their antics as well, my wife? Do you not want a chance to leave this barren underworld and rule among The Heavens, nay, ruleThe Heavens?"
Mehélia tilted her head to the side.
"Rule The Heavens," she said, tasting the words. "Yes. I agree. I would much like to return to where I was born. I too grow tired of working in the underworld. Was this plan the different motive of which you spoke of earlier?"
"Yes, it is," Zemir affirmed. "I gave Lord Shinoda a chance to ask of me what he needed, but his wish was not what I had hoped for. I know now that I must overthrow them."
Mehélia walked over to a nearby shelf filled with dusty old tomes and bottles. Picking up a bottle filled with pink liquid, she inhaled deeply, trembling the room in the process. With a precise exhale, she blew air into the bottle. The liquid inside began to bubble as she blew and a hint of blue flashed when the air mixed with the liquid. When she ceased blowing, the liquid slowly returned to its normal pink state.
"Then may this help you on your journey," she said, handing him the bottle.
A smile appeared on Zemir's pursed lips. "Indeed it shall. Many thanks, my love."
He spread his wings and took to the air, leaving his wife and unborn child behind.
Under the cloak of darkness, Zemir administered the poison his wife had given him. No poison she could create could kill a god. Only the power of a true and powerful being could hope to conquer and kill the High Gods. The poison she gave him would put his enemies in a deep slumber until he was powerful enough to kill them himself.
Once the poison was administered, Zemir could only retreat into the shadows and wait for the toxin to spread and lay claim to its victims. His eyes darted around at every movement, his shoulders hunched, his breathing quickened.
There was no turning back now.