Boah approached his son with outstretched arms, the cream sleeves of his robe riding up to his elbows as he clasped Juddken’s shoulder. Juddken shuddered, still unaccustomed to his father’s touch.

“My boy," Boah said, "For you to make so many trips and return unscathed, he must truly watch over us.”

Boah’s arrival heightened the others, eager to hear what the Big Man had to say. Despite all that had happened, their faith in Boah had only grown. Few inside the Manor doubted that which god provided them with strong walls and strong leaders to repel the accursed. Few openly supported Ati, and fewer doubted that Boah was their protector.

Juddken was elated, even if he didn’t show it. Boah had never shown him such care or affection. Boah struggled with Juddken, leading him from one odd job to the next, never knowing exactly how to talk with him. Boah never said it, but Juddken always feared his father thought he was a failure.

But no longer. He was respected now. Loved, even. And for all that, he returned it to his father ten-fold.

Boah held his other outstretched hand towards the crowd, lowering his head. “May the Lord of Fertility bless us with nourishment. May our dedication and devotion propel us through these difficult times.” He then looked out over the crowd, meeting as many as he could with his caring gaze. He smiled gently, radiating confidence.

In the distance, a lone hand raised over the crowd. It was Kirashi, one of the nine Heads, standing defiantly away from the others. They must have known she was a follower of Ati, or perhaps it was the faint stain of fecal matter that lined her once pristine robe. Her short hair had thinned since her arrival, and at this rate she looked as though she would have no hair left in another fortnight.

“Ah, Kirashi. Do you have something to share?” Boah spoke to her like a petulant child.

“You pray to Lord Okkan to guide us through,” Kirashi croaked. “For how long must we pray?”

Boah chuckled. “This is for Okkan to know!” A few in the crowd clapped at the acknowledgment. “I would be the greatest sinner to assume I speak directly of his machinations.”

“But you claim to be his conduit,” retorted Kirashi. “Would it not be true that you speak to him, and he to you as well?”

“I am not surprised that a follower of Ati would assume this. For one so devoted to worshiping a decaying god, you must think he whispers to me like a lover.” Several in the crowd laughed at this, Harran especially. “No, I am but an interpreter. It was he who told me that the Manor would be safe. Everyone here can thank Okkan for the gift he has given us.”

“Just like he protected us from the curse, right? What of all the other Okkan faithful who now scream at us?” Many in the crowd restorted with jeers. Shit smears would only repel them for so much longer. Juddken placed his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. This woman was saying too much.

Boah waved his arms, hushing the crowd to a complete silence. Juddken was amazed at the sway he held over them. “You speak falsehood, but you speak what you believe to be honest. If you wish to share your thoughts, we have an open forum. You have our attention.”

Stolen story; please report.

Kirashi’s voice cracked, but she spoke with pointedness. “You claim Okkan protects us. You said so on the eve of the Holiday. Yet since then we have been met with nothing but death. How few of us are left now? Two hundred? Maybe less? We spend every moon praying to Okkan and what has he given us? We can’t go outside, we can’t do anything inside, and we spend every day eating the same repugnant grain.”

“Shut up, shiteater!” someone in the crowd yelled. The others laughed uproariously. Boah watched on, stone-faced. Juddken did his best to not react, though he found the insult amusing.

Kirashi continued on, undeterred. “You all hide behind charred corpses and flayed bodies, saying that Okkan defends us, but every day we continue to die! I refuse to sit here and pray to a god that has done so little for us. I know I am not alone in this.”

Boah walked forward, smiling. The crowd backed away from him as he approached Kirashi.

“You’re right.”

“What?” Kirashi was caught off guard. The crowd murmured amongst themselves.

“Okkan only has as much power as those who devote themselves to him. There are many of us Okkan faithful, but there are many that are not, would you agree? Have you ever asked yourself the power that he would have if we all shared the same devotion? For many years we have been divided, and for many years I have tried to appease the nonbelievers. It is but rational that a god could only do so much. Even a god as powerful as Okkan.”

Kirashi opened her mouth to speak but Boah cut her off. “You and others like you have spent their entire lives undermining our Lord! Your tongue lashes like a whip, stripping away the flesh of truth. It is this blasphemy that has weakened Okkan's influence and brought this curse back to Ash with a vengeance. Every night we close our eyes we see the power the witch still has over our city. And you dare to ask why? It is because of those like you. People who stir the pot for their own selfish gain. People who are gifted shelter and grain and powerful defenders and in return they spit in their faces. You are the reason we are forsaken by our God!”

The vitriol in the crowd spilled over. Whatever confidence Kirashi mustered was now completely lost. She looked through the crowd for any support but found none. Juddken couldn’t help but notice Kyösti had long shifted out of the crowd and returned to the bonfire.

“If Ati truly is your savior, Kirashi, let your devotion protect you. Let Ati bring a storm that will wash away the accursed. You know better than I that he won’t.” Boah then turned to his crowd, raising his long arms outward. “But see before you the power Okkan wields.” The crowd cheered and yelled.

“Son,” Boah motioned to Juddken, calling him forward. “This woman cursed us with her words, no? Perhaps Shaddon Law would regain the favor she has cost us.”

The mention of Shaddon Law brought cheers from the crowd. “Bring Okkan her tongue!” one of them yelled. Juddken was more than happy to oblige.

Kirashi tried to flee but the crowd encircled her. Several men held down her arms and legs as she thrashed. Women reached for her hair, pulling at what little remained. Two particularly strong men grabbed her jaw and forced it open. Another guard held forceps and managed to grab her tongue. Kirashi screamed through the pressure and the pain.

Juddken was entranced. Kirashi ceased being a person at this point. With at least ten men and women holding her down, she was but a yak ready to be sacrificed. Juddken pulled out his scimitar, placing it near the sight of Kirashi’s outstretched tongue. As he placed the blade on the side of her face, he felt a wave of euphoria engulf him.

“ T r u l y f a i t h f u l ”

Juddken heard the voice within his head. He had heard it before, but it was becoming louder. It approved of him. He would do whatever he wanted, because deep in his heart he knew that his father loved him, and Okkan loved him too.

Juddken sliced through Kirashi’s tongue. Blood gushed from her mouth, it was a clean cut. Her screaming made no difference.