There are a thousand-and-one stories about a deity with delirious bloodlust. There are more that recount the philosopher’s attempt at discerning what would occur if the deity was left in their sanctified destruction and more on whether or not such destruction would be good for the overall. Regardless, in the sanctum of the temple, it was notably ruthless.

The reddened sun had been shadowed by the storm that Noctifer brought with him. To the two remaining priests and a handful of guards, there was only a maddened and ravenous widow who had killed multiple without so much as a break, a breath, or a blink. The girl was still barricaded in the room by the priests, and Noctifer would not rest until she was free and his people were safe. He promised himself that, even if it meant that he should draw blood from a rock and fire from water. The statue of Solaris, once a pristine marble with gold detailing, stood as a bloodied sculpture. The eyes, face, body, and hands—all of it—were marred in the vicious spray that came when Noctifer unleashed his blade and teeth with a fearsome roar.

The gods, hearing this commotion, abided within their statues but knew that this was not their place to work. Indeed, little could overcome Noctifer in his states, and none had full jurisdiction in Solaris’ temple, which was run under his autocratic rule. Yet, there was a third unseen force. Sala watched in heaven. The Goddess of Art, Divination, and three of the Holy Springs stood beside her with the scrying bowl. She prayed that Solaris would take this chance to break from his spiral and attend to something, but she also worried about the effects, which revealed the entire act. She prayed that Solaris would take this chance to break from his spiral and attend to something, but she also worried about the effects. Blood in his otherwise pure temple, and the consequences of his priests being led astray by a king rather than by the tenets they had believed in during the creation.

To prevent reckless bloodshed and stressors, she warned the gods that whoever would intervene would deal with not only Noctifer’s rage but also hers. This was Solaris’ duty, and he needed to see it through. She clutched her beads tightly.

“Life be with us,” she said simply.

For Solaris, the rush to the temple was staggered. He ran into some of his attendants, who had appeared. Others tried to keep him still, as his eyes were frantic and his hair disheveled in his need to go. He was a madman, quite akin to one in every way except diagnosis. Even his mount, the eagle, looked at him oddly.

“Please,” he pleaded. The eagle only bowed its head in response and took flight through the Airts until they were seated within Solaris’ statue, and the eagle took its place in one of the murals where it watched closely. To his ears, the prayers of the priests and the demands of the guards were like the tolling of bells in his skull. He frowned but stiffened when he heard a crying sound:

“Abba!”

Solaris, still embodied in his statue, turned to see the priests guarding a door. They were staring at an old lady who was currently twisting the arm of a guard and throwing him at another.

‘Those eyes,’ Solaris realized, ‘Noctifer.’

Noctifer, angered by a guard who had slashed his back with a blade, only continued. He grabbed the sword of the guard, not minding the sharp edge cutting into his skin as he sought a grip. He ripped the blade from the guard’s hand and went forth for an attack of his own. Throwing the guard down, Noctifer stepped onto his chest and pressed down with full force, crushing the guard’s ribs and his heart. His widowed form was covered in the rich ichor of blood, and his hands and feet were stained with it in excess.

Solaris only realized the presence of Ava, who kept close to the shadows. Whenever Noctifer struck down one, she was there to raise them back to the aethyrs. In front of him was the entirety of life and death—death in life and life by fateful death. When Noctifer charged the priests, grabbing one of them and crushing his head into the wall, Solaris snapped. He took his form, bursting from the eyes of the statue and appearing behind the widow.

“Noctifer, I command you to stop!”

Noctifer didn’t hear him, but he threw the limp corpse of the priest through the door. A high-pitched scream echoed from the room, and that’s when Noctifer calmed down. The blade disappeared from his hand, and he reached forward into the room with a crooked smile. From the shadows crawled a girl whose appearance shook Solaris. All the signs of malnutrition, abuse, and fear were etched into her being, and her being in his temple only impacted him more. This was his, and his priests had done this despite the tenets he had afforded them.

The last priest in the sanctum reached forward to catch the girl, but Solaris had seen enough. With a shout, he twisted his hand in the air. The priest, sworn by an oath, was compelled to kneel despite his will, urging him to ‘not let the heretic escape’. Noctifer looked back, seeing Solaris standing with his hand raised in the air, and his eyes darkened beyond any known measure of the god. A cold shiver went down his back, but he wrapped his arms around the girl and stood straight. He dismantled the form of the widow, and so returned to his original form, or at least the humanoid original.

The blood faded from his skin, which now took on the resemblance of the sunset, and his hair was no longer wiry but became the curls of night that were his signature. He cradled the girl close to him, holding her tightly.

“Solaris,” he urged, trying to bring the god back to himself. Solaris, however, was in no mood for listening, and his hand only stayed in its position. The priest remained locked in his kneeling, the pain becoming excruciating as the god did not bother to release his muscles or joints from their tightness. With a low hiss, Solaris released his hand, and the priest’s entire body slackened. He fell to the floor with a strangled huff, and Solaris only watched. He stepped forward, grabbed the priest by his collar, and held him an inch from his face.

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“Who authorized this?”

“Please, Soter, have mercy on me,” wept the priest.

“I asked a question,” roared Solaris in response, the temple shaking with the thunderous rage that boiled in his blood.

“The king,” the priest mewled. Solaris stiffened but then threw the priest back. He looked at the guards and waved his hand dismissively. Through the simple force of will, the guards had forgotten their situation and so awkwardly shuffled back to their posts, thinking that they were called for a meeting that never happened.

“Noctifer,” Solaris began threateningly, “home, now.”

“I have to take her to her family,” Noctifer denied stiffly. He eyed the god, a husk of his former self but a vague reflection of his greater self.

“Have one of the attendants do it.”

“She is my devotee; all my devotee’s children are my children, just as theirs are mine.”

“No one cares, Noctifer. You’ve been gone long enough,” snapped Solaris, twirling on his ankle to stare the god in the eyes.

“So have you,” Noctifer retorted, “you have been gone, and now look.”

Solaris looked around at the bloodied bodies and the girl in Noctifer’s arms, who was playing with the threads of the god’s robe. His jaw clenched, and his chest twisted. This entire ordeal was because he couldn’t keep himself in order, and now he had blood on his hands. A shaky breath was all he could respond with, looking down at his hands where he could see the countless lives taken in a faux name.

“This is my fault,” Solaris admitted quietly. His hands shook, and he looked up to Noctifer with tears in his eyes.

“Please, give me a chance, Nox,” he wept, hiccuping as the words rushed from his mouth. His teary eyes betrayed the youth that Noctifer had once seen. The other god softened.

“I can give you as many chances, but this is something that only your hands can wash themselves clean of,” Noctifer said, patting the girl on the back. He whispered something in her ear, and the girl fell asleep instantly. Solaris looked at her, envious of the sleep that she had been given when he couldn’t even rest in the comfort of his bed. His eyes swept over the temple, and the gods fled from their statues, lest they be the next victim to Solaris’ frustrations.

“Where are her parents?” Solaris asked, finally relenting to the adamant Nox, who was fixing his chlamys so it covered the girl’s body.

“That remains to be seen, but I don’t think they’d let her go to the temple in any state,” Noctifer whispered, his hand moving the girl’s arm under the cover of the chlamys, but he stopped. He gently turned the girl’s wrist and saw two puncture marks on the skin.

“A snake?”

“Probably, come on,” Solaris said dismissively, taking the form of a courtier for safety’s sake. Noctifer remained, running his thumb over the bite. He knew Sala’s work when it was in front of him. He folded the girl’s arm into the fabric and moved after Solaris. He took the form of a courtier, like Solaris, but a little less fancy. Solaris was going to stick out like a sore thumb, but if luck stayed, then maybe they wouldn’t notice.

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The slums were in a ruckus. On one hand, people were celebrating that a 'rebel’ had stood up to the temple, but others only grew more concerned. When Solaris came into view, many eyes narrowed, and a few dragged their children or elders behind them to make sure that the ‘visitor’ wasn’t a temple spy who would take them at a moment’s notice.

He wondered, as they walked, whether or not these people were worth saving or even worth his time at all. When he looked at the people who sang and the mothers who shielded their children, however, he knew that it was less a matter of saving and more of relation. To them, this was the face that has become the sign of tyranny and an unjust world. To him, theirs was the relation to what had prompted one of the worst aeons of his life. He looked over at Noctifer, who held onto the girl as though she’d break in a minute.

A part of him twisted in revulsion and envy, at the display, but a part of him equally longed for it. When he looked around, he was far from the sterility of his court and his view and into a world that was not his by any means but was still undeniably under the watchful eyes of heaven. Whether or not he thought these people were worth his time, they were his regardless. They were Nox’s, as well. If Nox could find space for them in his view, then why didn’t Solaris?

His thoughts were interrupted when Noctifer grabbed his arm. He was speaking to an old lady, who said she knew the girl.

“Yea, that’s Eva’s sister. Poor thing, she was taken a week ago,” the lady frowned. “Does she know?”

“Know?”

“Her sister left to go...” the old lady trailed off when she saw Solaris’ interest. She clicked her tongue and looked back at Noctifer.

“Regardless, her sister is gone, and we just buried her fathers three days ago; Heavens keep them. They were killed in a struggle for the girl.”

“So she has no guardian?”

“It takes a village, boy, and everyone here shepherds everybody else. If our Lord could accept the beggar, then who are we to turn aside the same?”

“I see,” Noctifer mumbled, his hand tightening around Solaris’ arm.

“Though,” the lady said, “it seems Leah has taken a liking to you. I’m preparing dinner for a few houses; would you like to come?”

“I would lo-”

“We’ll have to see, Mistress,” Solaris interrupted, his hand reaching and tugging at Solaris’ chlamys. The god frowned at him but nodded all the same. The lady’s eyes, once icy and hard, softened at the sight before returning to her work. She barked some orders, and the world around her responded in measure.

“She doesn’t have a family,” Noctifer said quietly.

“We can’t keep her,” Solaris immediately rejected.

“You can’t keep her, but I can.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Solaris hissed, trying to keep his voice down.

“That is my condition if you want me to return to heaven. Until I find Leah’s sister, I’m taking care of her, and she will share in Heaven. It is the least you can do,” Noctifer said darkly. Solaris stiffened. He looked at the sight of the people who had fallen to reckless harm under his name and knew that Noctifer was right.

“Fuck,” was all he could say, and Noctifer nodded.

“You don’t even have an abode in Heaven anymore; where are we going to keep her?”

“Stop talking about her like she’s a dog,” Noctifer warned.

“Where is she going to live? A child needs a home.”

Solaris rubbed at his forehead wearily. One melodramatic sigh was all that came from him before he finally added:

“You will stay at the Abode of the Sun with it. You will be under constant supervision because I will not have a repeat of this, understand?”

“Conditions for conditions; I keep her, and you keep me.”

“Just until I somehow solve this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the world around him. The girl shuffled under the warmth of Noctifer’s robe, and, strangely enough, Solaris felt a twinge of heartache for her.

“Until I solve this,” he corrected himself, though still uncertain of whether or not it could be fully solved.