Chapter 16 Hell Hath No Fury

Yn’Tereth the Defiler sat upon his throne and drank. He drank the wine that was his. When he had been born, his father, chief among the Titans had known and feared his children would rise up and murder him, as he had his parents. When Yn’Tereth was born, his father consumed him. He had been the first born god, and the first to die. He had made of death his dominion, and of the realm of death his defense. All that decayed were his, which meant that he was lord of wine, of mead, of miso freaking soup, sour-dough bread, cheese, yoghurt, soy sauce, pickles, sauerkraut, and all things alcoholic, but sure, god of death and darkness. Fine.

He drank deeper. Remembering the Bargain. “We shall be equal,” said his brother, god of the sun, the sky, and rulership for he alone among the brothers had known the open sky, had been allowed to grow into his full power as their mother had hidden him away in a place their father could not find until he grew strong enough to strike down their father, free his siblings, and begin the clash of the Titans, the war of the gods.

Equal. Hah. His last born brother held the sky, his middle brother had been given the sea, and he? The first born? He had been given death, darkness, and shadow. Then the war started, and his sister Demeter stood before them, begging them to stand down, to seek to make peace between God and Titan. The god of light, god of the sun, of good and justice and all things holy cut his unarmed sister down while she begged them to make peace. He had cut open the womb of the goddess of earth that she never bear fruit that might challenge his rule, yet as he blood fell upon the earth, the mortal race of goblins was born. As they were born, Demeter stole them from him. She stole them from death, kept them from the Hell he had created to hold Tartarus down even though he NEEDED the weight of souls in hell to keep Tartarus shut, as even now their dread father rose and tested the gates. No, Demeter bound them to the World Tree, the tree that sprung from the First Creation and would stand until the end of days. She bound their souls to the tree to return to it, and then to the earth to be reborn. She stole them from death, from HIM!

In his rage, he had listened to his brother’s honied words, and been the hand that bound her, the goddess of the earth, bound her in death to eternal torment, bound her children to that torment, using the pain of her children to tear the power from her, to steal the bounty of the land she had made with her life’s blood to provide for the only children she would have, to reward her murderer, and him, the brother fool enough to do the dark work of the God of Light, Yn’Tereth, forever known as The Defiler.

A moment of rage, and he had become the god of evil. The Immortals do not die as mortals do, their death removes but their freedom to act, their soul is still bound to the world and because he had crucified his sister and bound her in chains of Acheron Iron forged from the same metal that bond the gates of Tartarus, she knew all the torments of hell’s deepest pits, the fires stoked by the rage and hatred of those slain and bound Titans until the end of days. He did that in a moment’s rage, a moment where he gave in to his brother’s honied words about necessary sacrifice, and the good of the gods, and of their honoured brotherhood.

Yet he knew now the truth. His brother murdered her, but the torment of Demeter was his, the betrayal became his, the torment of her children became his, and the screams of his sister and her children scraped across his soul in an endless and unholy chorus. Not the murderer, but himself bore forever the stain of the deed. He became the God of Evil, and the crime, and all crimes of mortals became his. Staining his soul, tearing at his soul even as his whole realm became nothing but a place for his rage to sate itself on the souls of the dead. He was shut off from the light, shut off from the world, shut off even from the land itself, as it knew him as its Defiler.

His brother’s had thrones on Olympus the Holy Mountain, yet he did not. His temples cast down and burned in every land, his followers driven forth until he must craft a land for them himself. Every hand of the world was turned against them, outnumbered a hundred to one, he had no choice but to bind them to the demons that fed on the souls of the slain just to give them the power to stand against the foes of every land, the magics of every one of the gods. He had committed the crime that gave them rulership of the world, and they hated him for it. He had enslaved the soul of his slain sister to power the prison that bound their murdered parents, and now to save their lives, he enslaved his own followers just to keep them alive.

He hated, oh how he hated. Yet now there was trouble. A power rose in his Dread Empire, a power he had never known. There was the mark of the Titans in it, a light like that his father commanded, and used to bind the universe, yet there was a darkness that was not his. A darkness that was no thing he knew. Worse, it was nothingness. It was something that unmade, something that did not belong in reality, and whose touch could unbind the very bindings of that reality. His demons feared it, and he, the great Yn’Tereth the defiler looked upon it and knew it cleaner than him.

He laughed, and he drank. The souls of the Butcher and his circle of sorcerers were mindless shades to dance before him, their will had been taken, had been eaten by something other than the demons they were bound to. He could not call forth their essence from the demon’s they had been bound to, because those demons also had been consumed by something that unmade them, but lacking any mortal clay, they left not even a mindless shell or shade behind. What was that power, the mortals that wielded it cultivated like his own adopted children, not like the embarrassing grovelling and abasement his brothers and sisters called “prayer” where their followers could gain scraps of magic from their better’s tables. It was like they unmade the stuff of their bodies and soul to become something else. Not divine, not titan, not demon. What were they?

He drank again, the products of all forms of decay were his, but no one ever remembered him for anything but torture and murder. Not the god of wine and cheese, but treachery and evil. He crushed the celestial bronze vessel in his hands, the power of the First Born God, Defiler of the First Born Goddess was equal to any, even if his dear loving brother let his precious Holy Knights teach otherwise. The scream sounded in his soul, and the madness that drove him as it drove the living goblins made him pray that he could die, but in death he would only return here. Keeper of the prison, blood stained bearer of all the gods sins. Yn’Tereth the Defiler, first idiot, king of fools, and now in need of a new cup. He sighed, and then Hell rang like a bell as his bones felt the strike of a spear shake him to his core.

The chains that bound fallen Demeter to the gates of Tarterus rang once, and then a second time as the Acheron Iron, the unbreakable chains, forged from the whole power of the Underworld and the corrupted power of the earth parted.

Yn’Tereth looked, and he saw a field of slaughter. Thousands of goblins were being threshed like grain, their bodies harvested, their blood poured out like water upon the World Tree to bring it back to life, the souls of the slain being bound into the forging of terrible weapons, weapons that began as Celestial Bronze, but tainted with the blood and souls of the goblins, infused with that primordial darkness of unmaking, became something darker, something unmeant in this world, something that defied, rejected, and destroyed the divine order. Mortal Bronze, blade red as slaughter, edge black as the abyss before light, the spear in the mortal Clover’s hand lashed forth and the chains of Acheron Iron that bound Demeter forever in torment parted.

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Yn’Tereth fell. His power shook the gates of Tartarus shook, every demon in Hell fell silent in terror as the power of the earth no longer bound shut the outer gates, the power of Demeter, the murdered first goddess no longer endlessly suffered to bind shut the gates of Tartarus.

Inside Yn’Tereth, the screaming stopped.

Laughing, the god of the dead, the god of the underworld, but no longer The Defiler watched as his beloved brother, the King of the Gods, the first Kinslayer, the Parricide (father killer), Matricide (mother killer) and Sorroricide (sister killer), so called Lord of Light, god of Justice and all that was righteous holy and full of fucking shite sent his Phoenix to punish the mortals that dare end his theft of Demeter’s blessings upon her people and the land. He watched the Phoenix die.

The Phoenix, the true immortal, the spirit of eternal rebirth that sprang from the very blood shared by gods and titans that made them true immortals, that meant even death could not end their presence and will in this world was no more. Yn’Tereth laughed and laughed, rolling around on the floor of his dread throne room, and the shadows withdrew from the unprecedented sound. The Phoenix was dead, eternity ended. The gods too could die a final death. Yn”Tereth, once but no longer the Defiler, god of death knew more than any other that death held no release, now knew there could be a release.

Inside his soul, the screaming stopped. He looked down upon his hands. He had made himself a willing pawn in his brother’s sacrilege. He had no qualms about killing his parents, had not his father killed him at his very birth? No, but the murder and enslavement in death, the eternal torment, the soul-rape of his sister Demeter? That was a crime. That was evil, and he had allowed his brother to convince him to do it. Now the choice was his. Yn’Tereth, god of the dead, keeper of the dead, guardian of the gates of Tartarus looked upon his land and his duty and realized he could not give up his duty, but he too could be clean.

He summoned twelve souls to him. They stood before him clad in celestial bronze, the spears of eight men, two women, bow of one, and halberd of the single troll soul could harm even a god, even him.

They drew together, falling into formation to defend each other. In death, there was no end to their brotherhood. Yn’Tereth smiled.

“Attention!” Yn’Tereth barked, and the habit of the Legions was so strong in them they snapped to attention.

“Clover has succeeded, the chains that bound my slain sister Demeter are broken, the curse that drove the goblins into being mindless animals and blighted the savage lands has been broken, and you have fallen. You are dead. I was Yn’Tereth the Defiler, for my crime that is all would ever be, and yet you have helped that unnatural thing end it. For this, I give you the greatest of all gifts. I reject you.”

Yn’Tereth, god of the dead, raised his hand, and put his will upon the universe. Given dominion over death, his magic bound the souls of all that passed from the world of the living.

“As Demeter bound those born of her falling blood to the Tree, so shall you who walk the path of Clover Chain Breaker be bound to the Tree. Let Hell and Heaven both be barred from you, let your soul return to the World Tree and be reborn until this world turn no more.”

Their souls faded, flowing back from the underworld to the deepest roots of the World Tree, there to be drawn slowly up to the light and life where they can eventually be reborn in the world they fought for, and died for. It was the only gift he could offer them. They had, after all, once been in his service. Yn’Tereth laughed, and wondered if the death of the Phoenix would make his esteemed brother remember that no matter what his priests like to spout, he was not the lord of everything, and come crawling to his brother for another dark deed to prop up his rule.

Three days later, a Celestial Bronze Chariot rode a living bolt of lightning down from Olympus to the Temple of Yn’Tereth where it brooded over the City of a Thousand Sorcerers in the capital of the Dread Empire. There the Sun Crowned Lord of Heaven strode into the temple of his accursed and defamed brother Yn’Tereth.

“Yn’Tereth my brother, you have witnessed the first blow in the next war. This scum, this unnatural thing dared to raise it’s weapons against my holy Phoenix, and that ABOMINATION of a spear he forged did not kill the phoenix. He ended it. Ended an eternal being. It was not banished to hell, not banished to Tartarus, it was not bound to the World Tree for rebirth. The phoenix is GONE. Any one of us could be gone, should we dare to face this lowly mortal mud born INSECT. I want you to visit every torment of Hell upon the souls who practice his abomination who fell in the battle with the goblins, and I want you to share it in dreams with every mortal of every race in the world. Then you will raise your Dread Empire’s legions, and I will raise my Holy Knights, and we will blot this abomination from existence. Every soul that fights for this Clover will know all the torments of hell when they fall, and every one that survives will witness their brother’s endless torment every night until they kill him THEMSELVES.” Raged the God of Light, Mercy and Justice.

Yn”Tereth offered his brother a celestial bronze goblet of wine, then a plate of cheese and pickles.

“Hell hath no fury brother, I assure you. Care for some wine and cheese, maybe a pickle? This is the temple of the god of wine and cheese after all.” Yn’Tereth asked sweetly, taking a bite of a particularly crisp pickle and noting how its sharpness offset the heavy cheese perfectly. He sighed in appreciation.

The King of the Gods stuffed some food into his face distractedly, and swilled the wine, humming a little in appreciation. “Brother Defiler, your hospitality is indeed welcome, but it is your wrath that will serve us now, not your hospitality.” He said sternly.

Yn’Tereth laughed happily. “Oh dearest brother, Kinslayer, sister killer, don’t you remember, I am not The Defiler anymore. That Clover child has freed our suffering sister and ended my crime. She remains dead, so you remain sister-killer, but my crime at last is at an end. Now, trust me when I say Hell hath no fury I mean just that. I have no fury against Clover. I have no rage against his people. I have bound them to the tree, as Demeter bound her folk to the tree back when we were killing her. They will never be mine. Have no fear, I will keep your prison. The mortals of every other race, those that serve every other god are enough to hold down our murdered parents. I have no more urge to drown the world in blood a second time letting them out, but if you march against Clover, you will march alone.

Best avoid the spear. It isn’t just for hunting ducks, it does dickheads too.”

The Lord of Heaven raised a fist and a lightning bolt filled it, but a shield of blackest night formed on Yn’Tereth’s left arm, and a long black sword of Acheron Iron wreathed in hellfire formed on his right. Demons stepped from behind every column, the souls of thousands had fed these demons until they had the strength to stand against a normal Titan on their own.

“Beware brother, last time you whispered your words into my ears to trick me into committing your crime, I was born but a few hours. Now I have lived thousands of years, thousands of years with my domain growing with every death, my power growing with every death, my awareness of how you lied to me, used me for your crime and to bear your guilt growing with every breath, the awareness that even today you send your children to hunt my own into extinction, turn every hand in the world against my children until I have to bind them to my own demons just to give them a chance to defend themselves against your pawns. Do not test me brother. You stand in my place of power. If you don’t disperse that thunderbolt, there will be one less god in the world.”

The Sun Crowned God of Heaven ascended that day from the Temple of Yn’Tereth the god of wine and cheese, keeper of the dead, guardian of Tartarus, with rage distorting his face, and laughter echoing in his ears.