Of course, nothing turned out how many wanted it. Jaha saw to that.

In fact, once Kulat was subdued, Samrasa seemed to all but forget his promise to Rokas. Nothing was ever made of it, nor did he say he did not intend to fulfill it. Samrasa simply moved on, and Rokas slipped through the cracks of memory. After all, he did not have much support and did not particularly want the job.

Samrasa did not even attempt to renegotiate his return to his family and hardly spoke to him again. Though he still had young boys visit him regularly.

Taha, for winning him the battle, was forgotten. It seemed she had merely been a momentary curiosity, and Samrasa lost interest. Not with all the people praising him for being thrice-blessed by the Gods. Uncle even hinted Samrasa was her Chosen.

Nendas guessed that Taha was an unwelcome reminder of the results of rejecting the gods. And Samrasa would rather live in fantasy than acknowledge the reality he'd created. Not he stopped his anti-religious speeches or stopped hurting people. He found new excuses.

It made sense.

After all, if there was no meaning to the universe, you had no obligation to be morally consistent. So just take what you can and give nothing back. But the ease with which Samrasa had abandoned everything troubled him most.

Neither did he fulfill his obligations to Nendas, the only one Samrasa seemed to know existed. A new mercenary named Kalif was brought in to serve the role, while Nendas was tasked with other matters.

Old fool, he'd be lucky to last ten more years with all the wine he drank. He'd have no time to wipe out the worship of Jaha now that they were growing. And whoever succeeded him would have a different hobby.

The interesting part was that Kalif moved on and appointed all his people to the positions. After that, persecution stopped entirely. Unless Samrasa ordered them, he spent much time with Uncle.

But these were infrequent events, and they were performed out of habit. It was a way of asserting that he was still King and purging the religious scourge.

Nendas, for his part, did his best to save those seized. A number of prison cells were found mysteriously open in the night. A system was set in place by Taha. It helped people who had been marked for death get moved into the country. She seemed to enjoy doing it and liked getting back at Samrasa. He'd committed the one sin she could find ground for hating: Betraying your beliefs.

Eventually, however, Kalif found out about this and reported it to Samrasa. Kalif managed to talk him into executing the prison guards. Then, several priests were beheaded. And conveniently, the prison was taken over by men loyal to Kalif. After that, they had not dared take further action. While the events were never connected to them, they had become inconvenient.

Samrasa might kill them out of spite, for, unlike the priests, Samrasa knew their names. He often cursed them when he thought no one could hear. Now and then, servants spoke of hearing him raving in private. And though he hated him beyond words, Nendas could not help but lament that so great a man had fallen so far.

Years had passed now, and Nendas was around the point of deciding to take Samrasa's life. Rokas' original plan was rapidly seeming the best one. Simply murder all his enemies and leave Tarasif to decide its fate.

Samrasa was a liability, and he'd only stayed alive because Kalif refused to move against him. Several speeches were made about the evils of rebellion and how they would only cause civil war. So Nendas guessed that Kalif's plan was to wait until Samrasa died. Then he'd take over afterward and be hailed as a hero.

One could hardly begrudge him it. Nobody wanted to go back to the old days of never ending paranoia. At one point, there had been a new King every week with a battle for each one.

But, Nendas stayed his hand here too. He did what he could to ensure Kalif's plan, or what h thought was Kalif's plan, continued.

He wasn't sure why. The only thing keeping him was the prospect of getting back what Samrasa had stolen. But there was increasingly less of that. Uncle had not learned anything over the years, even after Samrasa tired of him and sent him back. He dithered and refused to lead and then would make reckless decisions so he could feel decisive. When he dithered, his holdings rotted, and when he acted, he put everyone at risk for no gain. Anyone who tried to fill Father's shoes tended to meet the same fate.

The letters from Sarafi came in daily, and they got worse and worse. Priceless statues that had been erected to honor victories had been sold. The money was used by Uncle to throw lavish parties and spend his time whoring. At the same time, he denied any member of the Hasafa Clan permission to take any worthy deed. Many members of the Hasafa Clan were fleeing their own homes. Others were seeking a position in the military under an alias.

The treasury that Father had gained by shrewd action was gone—wasted in less than a decade.

Tarasif was a gilded ruin populated by serpents; its promises were broken. Its honor was shattered. And the only question was who would survive the coming bloodletting.

Things kept going from bad to worse, and they never seemed to improve.

It was only a matter of time before it all collapsed. Nendas could do very little to shore up the beams of a house divided at the foundation. All he could hope was that Samrasa would die so someone could patch it.

Why wouldn't the rotting old corpse give up the ghost and die! It would be doing everyone a huge favor and would fix most of their problems right away! He'd have worked enough after he was dead without adding more to it now! The only consolation was the atheists were finally as miserable as their victims.

But for now, Nendas sped through the trees, tracking his prey. He checked his pace to ensure his companions could follow behind him. At last, he came out of the trees and onto the road. A cart had been overturned, and birds were picking at several corpses. One of them was a little girl whose throat had been cut.

He wondered what her name had been and why she had come out here. She looked to be of Taha's race. Was there some resemblance, or was it in his mind?

Word of another dead merchant was unlikely to cause much trouble; this sort of thing happened. But a failure was a failure, although it wasn't his. So he walked past the bodies without another glance and looked for more tracks.

"Hmm, from the looks of things, our prey has been busy with a merchant caravan," said Nendas. Suddenly, Nendas felt Her in his mind, pressuring him to try and save these wretches.

"Rokas, are any of them alive?"

"None," said Rokas, shooing away the birds. "All have been dead for hours."

One of the birds tried to return, only to take a dagger through the eye from Taha as she walked to the cart. "Nedas, we should see if they left any valuables here. They can't have had time to clean this place out."

"We are not stopping for plunder, Taha," said Nendas. "Not while we have a mission to complete."

None of their missions were honorable anymore. Samrasa sent them to kill outlaws, but outlaws could mean anyone now. Many of them might have been perfectly good people if not for the actions of their glorious leader. Sometimes they were common murderers. Others were Kulatian soldiers who Samrasa had dispossessed. The territory handed out to King Samrasa's favorites had to come from somewhere. Some were deserters from Tarasif, and many of them had organized.

Rooting them out was miserable business.

Nendas could hardly do anything beyond looking the other way for the innocent. But he couldn't do that too often; Samrasa would find an excuse to kill him. Reports had come in already of entire villages being crucified for worshipping Elranor. Nendas wondered if Samrasa had turned to worship Baltoth.

"We should see to it that these poor souls are buried," said Rokas.

Jaha agreed, of course. Nendas felt her all-consuming sympathy pouring into him from the brand on his prow. But it no longer soothed and was kept back by bars of seething resentment. Resentment Samrasa, the world, Munsuf, and so many others. "I am well aware, Rokas.

"We will see to their burial after we are done here."

"Why bother?" asked Taha.

"Though they are merchants, they deserve a funeral out of respect for the gods," said Rokas.

"Do you think they care?" asked Taha. "They've ceased to exist. Their decaying flesh won't mind if they get eaten by birds."

"Other travelers may, however," said Nendas. "And a good reputation is a valuable thing to cultivate. Come, we must be quick. I have the tracks."

Off they went.

Nendas reflected that there had been a time when such a sight would have been horrifying. However, the corpses were nothing new. He'd seen many executions by the King's soldiers. He'd even captured some of those responsible. After seeing them die, they preferred to kill people and bring back their heads. It was kinder that way.

"You know what the worst part about all this is?" said Taha suddenly.

"What is it?" asked Nendas.

"We're not even the main heroes of this story," said Taha with a sigh.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Nendas.

"Well, think about it," said Taha. "What exactly have we done other than follow orders?"

"We have gone above and beyond the orders we were given," said Rokas.

"Sure, but in all the stories, the hero is the one who drives the narrative," said Taha. "Take us out of things and what changes.

"We're just pawns on someone else's game."

"We are nothing of the sort," said Nendas, faintly offended. "I have been fully aware of Samrasa's transparent machinations. And all of you were as well.

"We chose to play along with them because to do otherwise would get us murdered.

"And I have taken steps to avenge my Father."

"Yeah, but only because Samrasa threw you a bone," said Taha. "And it's not like you could have chosen not to kill him. If he'd come back alive, Samrasa would have gone after you next.

"I mean, Rokas and I haven't changed anything."

"We were instrumental in conquering Kulat," noted Rokas.

"Yes, but Kulat is getting less stable by the day," said Taha. "They see what's happening here. The King will stage a rebellion as soon as he senses weakness. The Hasafa Clan has been run into the ground. And Samrasa has alienated the centers of faith; we'll see a civil war.

"Samrasa is getting on in years, and he has no son. And whoever unites Tarasif will go back to trying to conquer Kulat."

"Well then, whose story is it?" asked Nendas, trying not to let his irritability show.

Taha was silent. "Samrasa.

"We've come in at the end of a tragedy where the once heroic. Samrasa succumbs to his fatal flaws and is destroyed. He was a great man if not a good one, but his flaws led to his utter destruction. Maybe we'll kill him, but we'll just be the executioner who comes in in the third act.

"None of us are going to live long enough to have a place in history at this rate."

"What bothers me is that no one at all benefitted from our actions," said Rokas. "We served Samrasa and the Hasafa Clan and Tarasif well. Each of us fought with everything we were to advance our goals. Men died around us, and we were promised things at the end.

"But none of those promises were kept. Samrasa threw us aside without a second thought.

"I do not even mind, in my case. I never wanted to be a King, and I do not think I would be a good one. But by all accounts, Samrasa and Munsuf are worse off for our actions than better. This despite their plans going perfectly."

"I don't care," said Nendas. "There's nothing worth living for in this life anyway. With any luck, Laevian will send a plague that will kill us all."

"Don't you want to kill Samrasa?" asked Taha.

"I can't think of any worse fate Samrasa could have than to live to be a hundred," said Nendas. "He doesn't deserve to be assassinated or killed in battle. Let him rot."

"Well, what about your uncle," said Taha. "He's done very well out of all this.

"With Vandias gone, he's free to live a life of absolute luxury. All without any responsibilities. He doesn't care about clan or Tarasif, so he's getting what he wants. Samrasa has to keep in place because he's afraid of a vengeful Hasafa Clan led by you."

Nendas sighed. "My uncle... by now, he's done all the damage he can.

"No one in the clan listens to anything he says. Many have abandoned him, and now he's fled to Tarasif for fear of their knives. My own family has conspired to murder their patriarch, and it is an unforgivable crime. Not that Samrasa had done anything beyond giving him a place to stay.

"I think he plans to try and placate the Hasafa somehow, perhaps by appointing someone more competent. We're too weak to stand against him now. Uncle will likely get a comfortable retirement, pass on his title and get off scot-free. Samrasa can't behead his most loyal ally. It would set a poor precedent.

"If he were going to execute him, he would have done it by now."

"Are you saying the Munsuf is the smartest person here?" asked Rokas. And his voice said it was absolutely ludicrous.

"No," said Nendas. "I don't know. Yes.

"By all accounts, he has gotten everything he wanted. He avoided all misery and hardship and is now well on his way to escaping without consequences. And he hasn't anything he valued."

"Is a life without hardship and consequences worth living?" asked Rokas. "And isn't valuing nothing at all worse than valuing something for a time and losing it?"

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"...I say we find Munsuf, torture him to the death, and feed him to the dogs," said Taha, spinning a knife. "Show him how loyal a beaten dog is."

"That isn't what I want," admitted Nendas. "Though I may do it anyway as consolation for my injuries. One ill turn deserves another, after all." A few years ago, he'd never have considered killing his Uncle. It would have been sacrilege of the highest order.

Not the idea appealed.

It was wrong, and Nendas did not like what he was becoming.

"Then what do you want?" asked Taha.

"I want what I was promised," said Nendas. "If I were allowed to leave my position as Avatar of Jaha I could fix the shambles Munsuf has made of my clan. Or at least reduce the damage."

"So what did the guys we're hunting do anyway, Nendas?" asked Taha.

"Does it matter?" asked Nendas. "Our orders are to kill all of them."

"I dunno; I'd like to know why this particular religious sect is getting wiped out," said Taha. "I know they're bandits; usually, religious warriors became bandits after a purge. Gotta make a living."

"They are worshippers of Elranor if you must know," said Nendas. Taha was more interested in religion than she let on. She often knew about the rites of various societies, which had proven useful in hunting them. "He has become a common patron deity for exiles. Though I expect all gods will be patrons of exiles soon enough."

"What do you mean?" asked Rokas.

"King Samrasa's goal is the complete removal of all religion," said Nendas. "Once that is done, all other gods will, at best, be dismissed as faces of a single entity: him or his ideals or something.

"That entity being a torch passed from one generation to another as sacred."

"Why a torch anyway?" asked Taha.

"A torch cannot have an opinion, Taha," said Nendas. "And since it must be maintained by community spirit, it encourages people to be active."

"It is a flexible belief system, I admit, Nendas," said Rokas. "But such a force would need an ultimate source."

"You're overthinking things, Rokas," said Nendas. "The point of the torch is not truth. It is to hide the truth. It keeps society functioning and provides a basis by which to attack the Gods. Thus providing a purpose for society to strive for. That being the destruction of all undesirable thoughts and supernatural realities."

"But what if it succeeds?" asked Rokas. "How would such a society function?"

"What does Samrasa care?" asked Taha. "He'll be dead long before that happens, and he's still getting his five square meals. The whole thing is an elaborate performance. This is all meant to distract people from how they are getting robbed.

"None of Samrasa's officials believe their ideology. They just pretend to so they can get into the inner circle and steal as much as possible. Maybe they've fooled themselves into thinking they buy into it. But the second Samrasa keels over, they'll prostrate themselves to Kalif. And he's already making deals with the priests."

"Well, they're welcome to it," said Rokas in disgust. "If wealth and fat are all that they love, then that is what they deserve."

Silence as they walked.

"What is it like, having a god within you? You have never spoken of it?" asked Rokas.

They were unusually curious, weren't they?

Then again, they had been working more closely together these past few months. Since the wars died down, the endless bloodshed had become more personalized. Instead of killing enemy soldiers, they killed traitors.

"Violent," said Nendas.

"Violent? She's a Goddess of Peace," said Taha. "I mean, not as if I believe in her or anything."

"I see everything while she is within me," said Nendas. "I know the nature of everything I see. So I see the violence before it even happens.

"I do not understand how you can remain a staunch atheist, Taha. You joined the Cult of Tamar and became in the mysteries. How did you fake it that well? And how did you manage to not believe in her at all?

"Surely, you must have seen some miracles. You've seen many done by me." He'd never been able to break her out of this. Nendas wasn't even sure why he was asking.

"Oh, please," said Taha. "I was a war orphan, and I needed a meal. It seemed like an easy way to learn knife-throwing and acrobatics. As soon as I'd taken what I needed from them, I walked." That story was completely different from the one she'd told Nendas before. She'd told her story many times, going over different parts, which shifted with the telling.

In the end, Taha was just empty. Her life before she met them was just a meaningless fairy tale; she could tell however she wanted. "As for the miracles, it's all about knowing when the wind will blow. You figure out what is going to happen and make some speeches. Then the wind happens, and you look like you called it down.

"It's all about tricks and timing. You'd be pretty good at it if you dropped the worship of Jaha."

"Oh yes, because getting rid of religion has worked out so well for Tarasif," said Nendas.

"...Good point," said Taha. "They uh... really should have come up with an alternative system to divine right. The contradictions have screwed everything up."

"How did you manage to get made a priestess," asked Rokas.

"Most religions will make you their high priest if you pretend to believe what they say," said Taha with a shrug. "The trick is not letting yourself act on what the religion demands. Once you start doing things, everyone wants you dead. You say the right things to the right people, get into the circles, and forget about those you abandon.

"Make yourself useful, don't present a threat to your boss, and you're set.

"I got as high as I could, but I wasn't satisfied with being a handmaiden to some Goddess I never saw and didn't exist. So I walked out before the day of the ceremony."

"Taha," said Rokas. "I am concerned for you. This flippant view you have of the gods is to your peril. At one time, I thought it was a mere quirk, but this nihilism is dangerous. You do not seem to know who you are or where you came from.

"And now that I have seen the same principles at work in Tarasif, I fear it could consume you."

"I can't change whether or not the gods exist," said Taha. "I just lack belief in them. If Tamar wants to look me up and drag me back to her domain as a prisoner, she's welcome to try. I've learned a few tricks to the knife-throwing techniques she teaches. I'll bet I could teach her a trick or two."

At that moment, the wind howled. Taha was nearly thrown off her feet. Nendas set a hand on a tree and forced himself to stand. Rokas set his back to a tree as the winds surge through them. Nendas saw Taha falling backward and surged forward to catch her.

The wind stopped.

As they halted, Nendas looked around and saw a fox. It was standing upon a stone and looking at them. Rokas gazed at it, concern on his face. "A fox.

"Why'd it cross our path?

"We should not speak any further," said Nendas. "We're nearing our quarry."

The tracks led them up into the highlands. Nendas wondered if Taha had called down some divine retribution as they walked. Tempting the gods was generally a bad idea, so Nendas wondered if he should-

His brand pulsed, and Nendas' thoughts turned away from Taha. Taha would be fine.

Instead, he focused on getting to the enemy. Sending forth his thoughts, he used the power of Jaha to sense his enemy. They were near.

Nendas sensed their hatred,

The three of them were making a stand. He set a hand to his sword and looked to his comrades. "Our enemy is near."

"Then let us meet them fairly in battle," said Rokas.

The three emerged into a clearing by a gorge leading down to a river. Three men, clad raggedly and armed, were standing before them. "So, you are warriors who have been sent to track us, then.

"Even if we fall, Elranor shall live on. His power shall see the-"

"We don't care," said Taha, hurling a dagger through his eye.

Nendas and Rokas sprang forward, and his sword clashed with that of another enemy. Parrying and thrusting, he quickly found that his enemy was skilled but slow. Driving him toward the gorge, he stepped back to avoid a thrust, then knocked the sword from the man's hand. Bringing up his sword, he drove it through his throat.

Dragging it out, he stepped back quickly to avoid the blood. Turning to see Rokas fighting, he saw he and his man were grappling. Rokas was gradually overwhelming him, however. With a shrug, Nendas mentioned to Taha, who hurled a dagger into his back. As the corpse fell, Nendas came to where the first enemy was screaming. The blade was in his eye but hadn't pierced deep enough, and he was screaming.

Raising his sword, Nendas stabbed it through the man's neck.

"Sloppy, Taha," said Nendas with a sigh. "We both know you didn't miss. Go for the throat, not the eye. These bandits had to be stopped, but it should be done cleanly and humanely."

"Sorry," said Taha. "I wanted to see if I could make the shot."

She was lying; she'd made that shot before, but it didn't make any difference.

Nendas shrugged, then raised his sword and plunged it through the man's chest. However, the sword must have missed the heart because he didn't die. Drawing it out, Nendas stabbed him again in irritation. Finally, when that didn't work, Nendas fell to one knee and hacked off his head.

Nendas remembered a time when all this would have horrified him.

"Well, that's done," said Taha. "Now, let's see if they have anything worth stealing."

"Indeed," said Rokas. "These foul renegades shall rob no one else!"

"Less posturing, more looting," said Taha, searching through pockets. "Hey, this one had a silver necklace."

"Likely stolen from the merchants," said Nendas.

"Nah, those guys were easterners from Tartan; it's a city-state just north of Spirta, one of their allies. I grew up there," said Taha, stripping off their clothes.

"Wait, you're an Amazon?" asked Nendas. She did not seem to have the build; he'd seen a few journeying here.

"No," said Taha. "Not every woman in Themious is an Amazon. See, they've had trade routes for years. And the Amazon race bears more males than females, so there tends to be a lot of overlap. My family was part of the territory seized from Kulat in a war a few generations back.

"So we don't have any Amazonian blood. And even if we did, not every girl born to an Amazon is one. Zeya's blessings are limited, I think."

"You were ruled by Spirtana?" asked Rokas.

"No, Tartan isn't fond of the Spirtana; they just appreciate them as very dangerous," said Taha. "Their prowess in battle is legendary, even among the Amazons. And also, their word is their bond.

"I can't attest to either. I know Spirtana are very brave when murdering defenseless slaves, though. It's a rite of passage for them. Each one is expected to have a male slave who accompanies them in everything.

"To become a real woman, they have to murder him to demonstrate how strong and independent they are.

"They also have a penchant for murdering men in general. Traditionally, their first male child is sacrificed on an altar to Zigildrazia. Believe me, we were lucky to get seized by Tartan; they were a bit civilized and let us run our affairs. Their Queen had several male children and smothered each on to death herself before they came of age.

"She's very fond of male children until they grow up.

"Hey, help me strip them. Some of these clothes could be sold for a decent amount if we cleaned them up a bit."

"Must you focus entirely on riches?" asked Rokas. "Surely our mission is of greater importance."

"Yeah, but if we hack off their heads first, the clothes will be even more bloody," said Taha. "Now come on, we've got looting to do."

Taha had a very meticulous means of looking. She had a talent for weighing the value of what they found on the corpses. When they were finished, they cut off the heads and hurled them into the bodies into the river. With that done, they backtracked.

"Nendas, catch!" said Taha.

Nendas reached up, caught a necklace as it arrived, and looked at it in disdain.

"It's really valuable," said Taha. "You want it?"

"I can't legally own property," said Nendas. "As I have told you many times."

"Yeah, great," said Taha. "She's the Goddess of Peace, and you're a professional murderer.

"Who's going to care if you take a silver necklace as a gift."

"A silver necklace cannot be justified to a crowd," said Nendas. "To justify becoming a warrior, I made up a philosophy about gender roles. There had never been a male Avatar of Jaha before, and people liked the idea of a warrior monk. So I escaped my limits.

"So I got away with... questionable actions for the greater good. If I start wearing a necklace, how do I justify that?"

"You could always say Jaha is a has-been, and no one cares what she thinks," noted Taha.

"Her religion is growing," said Nendas.

"But it's not the same faith the Hasafa have," noted Taha. "It's militant, a fighting god. Nothing like the feeble pacifist doormat you're saying prayers to. You remember when that mob tried to burn a meeting place down?

"All of the worshippers were former soldiers. They killed hundreds of the rioters before we dispersed them."

"That was a good day," noted Nendas. "Samrasa lost a lot of supporters. And a lot of atheists died."

"Frankly, Nendas," said Taha. "I find your attitude insensitive."

"You're not dead, Taha," said Nendas. "And seeing as you don't believe in anything, I don't think you have a right to stand on principle."

"Good point," said Taha. "I guess I sort regard myself as a god if you're really technically. We should murder all the atheists after Samrasa dies.

"Their religion is more trouble than it's worth."

"You can take it up with Kalif if we're still alive after he takes power," said Nendas. "I don't have any power for that kind of thing, even if I wanted it."

"Don't you think that you should..." Rokas paused. "Well, try to get back your power. If becoming head of the Hasafa Clan is so important to you."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" asked Nendas.

"...perhaps you should seek out King Samrasa," said Rokas. "And get him to release you. It may be that the Gods shall move him to be reasonable."

Nendas nodded and reflected it was a good idea. It was also a smart move by Samrasa, since it would cement Nendas' loyalty. "Let's discuss that later."

As they made their return journey, Nendas found their path drawing off. He was not certain whether his will did it, or the will of another, or simple chance. However, whoever it was, they deviated from their road at some point and soon came within sight of a clearing. It stood between a roadside and a hill, and there was a spring.

And in the center, Uncle was meditating. Or attempting to, at any rate, he was no good at it. He was, by now, even fatter than he had been in the tent. With him were a large number of armed guards, perhaps a dozen. They were mercenaries, some assigned by Kalif since Hasafa could not be trusted. And Nendas knew his chance was here.

"Lord Munsuf, are you certain you should be out all this way?" asked a guard.

"I need to escape from the city," said Munsuf. These surroundings are far preferable to it. I keep... remembering things."

"Still, it is a danger," said the guard.

"Danger is everywhere," said Uncle. "Samrasa has gone mad, and he won't even let me in to see him! My own family is now after me through no fault of my own! At least here, the commoners aren't reeking up the place.

"I can focus here. I must find a way to get control. Samrasa has promised to restore my control, but he hasn't acted."

It was a concept Nendas could relate to. And it made him hate Lord Munsuf all the more.

"Nendas..." said Rokas. "Perhaps it would be wise to let this pass."

"Not this time," said Nendas. "This time, there is no mercy."

Drawing his sword, Nendas stepped out openly into the clearing, and the guards looked up. Yet Munsuf was paying him no heed, pacing before a serene waterfall that brought no peace. Fish were swimming in and out of the rocks, but they had no serenity. The rose bushes were dying and overgrown. "...I must find a way to restore my finances. I've been wasteful so far.

"In time, perhaps, we can salvage the situation. Many of my clan have won glory in the military. If we have another war, we can get riches and-"

"The time for such words was long ago, Munsuf," said Nendas. He wondered if Munsuf felt any genuine regret. Probably not.

Munsuf did not regret that he murdered his brother and ruined his clan, or he would have contacted Nendas. He regretted that he was suffering consequences for his actions. If nothing had gone wrong for him, Munsuf would have been happy to keep whoring.

"Nendas?" asked Munsuf, stepping back.

Nendas looked to the guards, who drew their swords. Yet, there was fear in their eyes. He'd gained a reputation for ruthlessness. "You have done nothing to me personally. Leave us; I will speak with my uncle."

The guards shuddered at his words, but they stood their ground. Admirable, but it was going to get them killed. Munsuf halted. "Nephew.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Nendas looked at him in shock at his audacity. "You killed my Father, your brother who was completely loyal to you. You bankrupted our family and shamed our honor. You cowered away from war, and when you joined, at last, persecuted me. You disgraced Jaha by attempting to use her as a pawn in your political games. You had prostrated the Hasafa before Samrasa, who before was equal. You embraced a decadent lifestyle that has consumed us.

"You engage in depravity! Even as you, you allow men to be crucified on suspicion for your crimes! AND YOU RUINED MY LIFE!!

"What do you think the meaning of this is, Munsuf?!"

Munsuf cringed back. "My daughter... she... she's here in Tarasif, without me-"

Daughter? Munsuf had had a daughter, a girl Nendas had known. But her memory was fading, and her face did not come to mind. What was the name of his Father or the servants? Had it not seemed important? Sarafi was her name, wasn't it?

Everything had blurred. "I don't even remember her name right now."

Perhaps it had been driven from his mind, or perhaps he was simply past caring about anything.

"She has read about you! She's asked!" said Munsuf, grasping to save himself. "Don't you remember the times when we were a family? Please, for the sake of..."

"Lord Munsuf, what are you doing? There are only three of them," said a guard.

"Idiot, it's not just Nendas there," said Munsuf. "Queen Jaha, please. You have long been the Hasafa's patron; I beg you to stop my nephew. Events have driven him to this, and, for the sake of the faithful, please stop him."

And then Nendas knew who had been directing her. The spirit which had slowly been taking hold of who he was from within came to the front. Taha and Rokas stepped back as light radiated from somewhere, and Nendas realized it was from him. A divine process he could not comprehend went through him as he felt an all-loving warmth within him.

It was tempting to fall into it, even as the darker aspects of his spirit were appropriated at last. But he held on and heard his voice speaking with an echo. "I do not remember your faith, Munsuf.

"I've sought to find it, to fuel and raise it from your spirit, but your soul is nothing. I blew the embers for years, and when they cooled, I placed more fuel. But there is no flame left to raise.

"I inhabited your wife, among the most beautiful women in the world, but you never valued her save as a luxury item. Even her intelligence and ability were but an irritation, for it reminded you of your own failings. For you did not want to better yourself.

"I raised a great flame from your brother, hoping that his light might aid you. Yet you quenched him for the sake of jealous spite. You set him up to be murdered in the street for the sake of your lover, Samrasa.

"Your daughter was granted talent and power and would have made for a great avatar. Yet your influence turned her against me. I made allowances and allowed Nendas to become my vessel. From there, you sought to destroy him."

"I didn't..." Munsuf fell to his knees. "Jaha I..."

"No more excuses," said Jaha. "I have tried to foster faith, but your heart is dead to all but selfish fear and hedonistic lust. And you have spread your nature across the world. You and your accomplice Samrasa have corrupted the heart of Tarasif. Misery and death have consumed the lands while you wallow in gilded filth.

"I never knew you, Munsuf.

"I know nothing but a young boy forced to murder one he might have called a friend because he feared death. And he knew his uncle would not help him against Samrasa.

"Once my mercy bade me labor endlessly for peace. I have sought to create harmony.

"But now I seek justice for those you have wronged. AND THEY SHALL HAVE IT!!"

And then something happened.

The guards screamed in horror, and Munsuf screamed loudest. A vast pit opened up in the earth, and hooks with chains lashed out. They sank into Munsuf's body, tearing his flesh and burning him as he howled in terror. This was too much for the guards, who broke and fled as great hounds emerged from the ground.

Their teeth sank into Munsuf's flesh, tearing great chunks from his body. Blood spewed into the pool but vanished almost at once. And yet, he continued to scream as he was dragged down into a chasm of fire. And when one looked at it, there seemed no end. It descended further into horror after horror, with no respite.

With a final howl, Munsuf was pulled down with an incoherent scream for mercy before the crack shut tight. Birds resumed chirping. Wind blew again, and all sign of his presence was gone with his damnation.

Nendas wasn't exactly sure what, but he heard the screams of agony from Munsuf. A wail of unfathomable terror and fear as a red light opened from beneath. Munsuf's guards fled in every direction, crying for mercy. Munsuf himself was drawn into the cold earth with a scream.

And then he was gone.

Nendas stood before a serene waterfall, looking at his own reflection. But he saw little of himself in the reflection now. More and more of him was Jaha with each day. And he wondered if the death of Munsuf meant the end of that.

"...Taha, you're out of excuses. Jaha just dragged Munsuf down to hell," said Rokas.

"Earthquake and mass hallucination," said Taha. "The superstitions of the guards probably scared them off. And the ground is not disturbed at all because-"

"Shut up," said Rokas.

"Right, sure," said Taha.

Nendas smiled at the untold horrors Munsuf was going through right now. Taha stepped back, a bit disturbed, and Rokas stared.

It was an ending. But it did not end.

Now for the rest.