The newcomer wore robes of animal hide processed into dark brown leather and a crown of carved stone and colorful gems atop his head. His claws were the longest amongst his people, his mouth filled with long canines strong enough to snap bones. Even the fearless Naru’ma, immune to a thousand poison glares, shrunk in the face of this terisari. He had a large mane, accentuating his ferocious head—spotting three long scars—which resembled a tiger’s.
“What is it, shaman?” he said. “I did not permit you to stop. Carry on with your story. I find it intriguing.”
Naru’ma trembled, but she slammed her staff down. “It is no story, war chief. I speak the truth.”
Vrask smirked and spread his arms apart, turning to the crowd. “Well, show yourself, god. What sort of god leaves his shaman to take the fall in their place? To face the scrutiny of my people alone? To withstand my ire?”
The terisar standing around him were taking note of his presence. With a confident gait, Jalen pushed through the crowd, garnering more attention as he strode past Naru’ma and stopped before Vrask, who stood with his back straight and chest out, emphasizing their height difference. A flurry of murmurs broke out amongst the terisar.
“So this, my people, is the apparent god,” Vrask chuckled, pointing a mocking hand at him, which evoked a roar of laughter that rippled amongst the terisar. Satisfied with the reception, Vrask lowered his head to him. “Now you shall pay for soiling the gods with your blatant stupidity. Who did you think you were going to fool, coming here with that farce of a story?”
He unclasped his hands that were folded behind his back and cracked his fingers. “That’s funny. I came here to ask you that exact question.”
With a face twisted into a mean growl, Vrask stood upright, his eyes widening. The next moment, without warning, the war chief plunged his fist into Jalen’s midsection and sent him flying. He sailed over the crowd and smashed the side of a house, which veered him off the platform, straight down to the forest floor.
Naru’ma gasped, then spoke against Vrask’s actions before receiving a predatory glare from the chief that made her back away. Nola gritted her teeth but stayed put while Tigna smiled, nearly jumping in joy. However, the terisar revered their war chief with awe and faithful devotion.
“You all witnessed that, my people,” Vrask said, his gaze sweeping the terisar gathered. “That imposter was not a god. Do not believe the elaborate lies spun by weaklings to gain your favor, your trust, and your riches.”
They agreed, nodding, and raising their hands in the air, singing praises.
“I, alone, am a descendant of the gods. I, alone, drank golden wine at the same table with the Sun Sister. I, alone, should be worshiped and revered.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Vrask swung around, cowering at the intensity of the golden eyes glaring down at him. “Who are you?”
Naru’ma grinned, her sharp-yellow teeth bore. “He is Erebus, the bringer of light and darkness. He is the divine father you have just treated with the utmost disrespect.”
Vrask removed his robes, a deep rumbling growl emitted from within. His fur, especially on his back, stood on end, like a current of electricity passed through him.
Jalen landed beside Naru’ma. “Stand back.”
The shaman heeded his command.
“Get down on your knees,” he said. “And I’ll forgive your transgressions.”
Vrask let out a feral roar. “I will skin your hide and use it to carpet my floors.”
The enraged war chief charged on all fours and swiped at his neck with a clawed paw. With a scrapping slash, the strike landed, leaving a trail of sparks that flashed across his cheek. However, the attack proved too feeble, as it seemed like the Vrask’s claws were scraping against solid stone. Undeterred, Vrask unleashed a relentless barrage of blows, pounding, slashing, and stabbing at the unbreakable being before him. Yet, even as his claws relentlessly attacked, they only ground down against his impenetrable skin.
“I expected more from a supposed descendant of Luwana,” Jalen said, with his hands behind his back. “You wouldn’t even leave a bruise if I stood still all day.”
Vrask roared at the top of his lungs, the air boiling around him. At the end of his claws, red flames ignited. The war chief blurred before him, a clawed hand soaring toward his eyes.
Mere moments from impact, he deigned to protect his face. A whirlwind of raging fire burst on impact as he caught Vrask’s wrist. The surrounding terisar screamed and backed away from the torrent of flames spreading about. The fire had enough power to sear his forearm and a portion of his face, his skin smeared with charred soot in the aftermath. Vrask adorned a triumphant snarl at the pained grimace on his face, finally being able to affect him.
Regardless, the war chief’s moment of elation was shortened by a thunderous punch to the face that he never saw coming and replaced with fear. Vrask crashed clean through the several-layer thick, wooden flooring of the city center, ripping off chunks of wood as he crashed into a tree that sent him plunging to the earth. He shot through the hole in the flooring, after Vrask.
On the forest floor, the war chief was a bloodied mess as Vrask crawled out of the hole in the ground, his bloodstained teeth displayed in a grimace.
“Kneel,” he said, floating a few feet away.
“Never.” Vrask spat out a mouthful of blood.
The terisar, in huge numbers, descended from the trees to the forest floor and assembled around them. He noted the array of weapons some of them wielded and the tense expressions on their faces.
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“Very well.” He closed the distance to the staggering war chief.
Undoubtably exhausted, Vrask swung wildly, his blows significantly weakened and slow. One of the war chief’s eyes was blinded by blood leaking from a deep gash on his forehead. He picked Vrask up by the neck, ignoring the insignificant retaliation.
“Kneel.” He commanded again, his voice low and rough.
Vrask spat, missing his face entirely. “No.”
Unbothered, he open-palm slapped the war chief, continued the motion of his sweeping hand, and returned with a backhand.
“Kneel.”
“I will neve—”
He rained powerful slaps that disfigured Vrask’s face. Some terisar begged him to release their war chief while the others with weapons developed cold feet.
After a while, he halted his assault. “Kneel.”
“Please… not in front of my people.” Tears bled down Vrask’s unrecognizable face.
The dejected war chief received another round of open-palm slaps that echoed viciously, his teeth flying off from the impact of the blows.
“I’ll do it,” Vrask pleaded. “I’ll do it. Please stop.”
With a grunt, he released Vrask, who dropped to his knees and dug his head into the soft soil. Silence reigned with the air thick fraught with tension as he let the war chief bask in his worthlessness for minutes on end. At last, when he was satisfied with Vrask’s prostration, he spoke.
“Tell your people the truth.”
Vrask shook with rage, his claws bursting into flames once more. So he landed and stepped closer, daring the war chief to act and commit his fate to damnation as he, too, prepared his cosmic beams. It seemed like Vrask was a bubbling volcano, ready to erupt at any moment.
Yet, the wounded terisar dropped his flaming hands to the earth and exhaled a tired breath. “I… am not a… d-descendant of Luwana. In fact, I have never been graced with the… the Sun Sister’s presence. My name is Vrask’Shelari. Son of Vaarish’Shelari and Isani’Shelari. I come from a surface-dwelling tribe, inland, past the great plains. I was gifted as a cub, born with innate abilities, similar in fashion to my father and his brother.
“When I matured, I sort after my father’s place, challenging his brother to a duel. I struck down the old terisari and gravelly injured him. With my strength battle-tested, I awaited my father’s return with glee, taking from his litter and seizing his possessions for myself. The first rains of the year brought my father and his hunting band. I thought I possessed power, but truly, I had never seen Vaarish’Shelari driven with rage. That day, only my blood ties to him saved me from certain death. With meager rations, I was cast out, trekking through the great plains aimlessly until I happened upon this forest.”
Eyes widening and jaws slacking, the terisar stared with shock. So quiet was the forest now, that the only things he could hear were the leaves ruffling and the worms underneath the earth. Vrask never once raised his head while addressing his people. Gradually, his people spoke up, hounding and cursing their war chief for that, screaming at him to face them. A few terisar even dared to attack Vrask. He put a stop to that by lifting the lead terisari by the head. The others scurried away like flies.
“Get up,” he said, discarding the pleading terisari to the wayside.
Vrask struggled to his feet.
He placed a hand on the war chief’s shoulder, who flinched but otherwise stayed put.
“I harbor no ill feelings towards you, Vrask. Had you approached me with dialogue instead of violence, none of this would have occurred.” He paused when he saw Nola and Naru’ma in the crowd. Then he returned his attention to Vrask. “Now, for you to remain in charge of your people, there is one rule you must follow. Never lie in the name of your deities. You are lucky it is I that got to you first. If you’d met Luwana herself, death would be the least of your worries.”
Vrask nodded, then gulped in fear.
Then he raised his voice higher for the all terisar present to hear. “By my decree, Vrask’Shelari shall remain as your war chief. However, it would be wise to elect a council that checks his power.”
“Oh, and no sacrifices of your enemies in Luwana’s name. She prefers animals instead.”
He left the war chief go, who was immediately surrounded by his few loyal guards. The hostility from the people did not let off, however, so Vrask and his guards had to push their way through.
During the fight, he had pondered what to do with Vrask. He initially resolved to kill the terisari. Nevertheless, Nola’s tales on their journey over questioned the practicality of that decision. Vrask was a greedy and war-hungry terisari, hellbent on unifying his race through any means necessary. He expected that approach to cause constant destruction and infighting. And Naru’ma attested to that happening during the early years of Vrask’s reign. Presently though, the terisar were at their most peaceful period in centuries. A warlord, who claimed to be Luwana’s son with the power to back that claim, could achieve this result. How would Vrask fare now that he lost his divine backing?
He expected Vrask’s reign to come under heavy scrutiny now. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk at that thought. The small gift he wove into Vrask would put an end to any insurgency. The terisar would need to stand together after all. With the threat of the metulu, an underground dwelling mole people looming across the great river, the terisar would need all their strength to survive. The circumstances made him wonder. Should he play favorites considering the metulu and terisar were all his creations? If the metulu survived the upcoming centuries, perhaps he would pay them a visit as well.
Some terisar stayed behind, studying him intently while he beckoned Nola and Naru’ma to come over.
“I’ll be leaving soon,” he told them.
“That is to be expected,” Naru’ma said. “You are a god, after all. I imagine you have many responsibilities. Though, I hope you found us worthy of your grace, great maker.”
“I did.”
Nola had dropped her head and shoulders in response to his words. He gently cupped her chin and nudged her head up. Tears streamed down her face.
“You will see me again,” he said. “Though in what capacity? I don’t know.”
“How?” she asked. “The last time you came, our people didn’t exist. We will be gone when you come again.”
“Perhaps your people, yes. But you? You and Naru’ma will still be here.”
He turned back to gaze at the setting sun that told him it awaited his presence. Then he regarded the two terisar standing before him once more. One wiped her wet eyes while the other gazed at him with unyielding devotion.
“The times ahead will become more challenging,” he said, placing his hands on their shoulders. “I cannot tell you the specifics, but in due time, you will understand. I bestow to both of you a portion of my power. You will never grow old and weak. Naru’ma, you are to guide your people through the coming times. While you, Nola, will assist her.”
He doused them in his cosmic beams, but rather than pain, it brought empowerment to their very beings. Now, Naru’ma gained eternal youth, her muscles electrified by the energy she lost a while ago. He wondered what other powers they may have gained, as he did not program specifics to his life force. Though intrigued, he would not linger any longer. He floated into the sky.
Naru’ma had dropped to her knees, her hand clasped before her as she showered him in praise.
“Look to the sky at night,” he said with finality, before soaring into the sky and disappearing into the clouds.
As he ascended higher and higher, the terisar below shrank into nothingness, the forest of towering trees merging into a distant green landscape. A cloudy haze of heated air formed around him just before he broke the sound barrier, thunderous booms crackling in his wake. The faint blue sky faded into a dark blue, which faded into the dark vacuum of space.