As the sun fell, inside a broken and forgotten cabin near an unnamed village, a gathering was occurring.
A dozen hooded figures dressed in robes of a deep red stood in a circle, surrounding a crude wooden table, the carpentry work amateurish, yet detailed, each surface showing images of battles between a few small kekus and the forces of the Emperor himself.
"My fellow cultists." The figure facing the door began, speaking in a deep and rough voice. His hood was slightly different from that of the others, having an extra golden stitching around the neck, forming a thorny circle, that of the Fallen Emperor. "Our weekly meeting has occurred. I have listened to all of your reports. Red Dawn." He pointed at one of the individuals, the cultist sitting right opposite of him. "You have done well, smuggling the food of gods, the spiritual food. That will serve us well. Yet… you have failed to mention this to me." He picked up a plate from the floor, on it a single piece of a thin, half-eaten fried vegetable.
"Her- F-Fallen, my lord!" Red Dawn began, voice quivering in fear, barely able to form words. "I… was starving, I had no choice but to-"
"Silence!" The Fallen shoutout, smashing his hand on the table with such force the floor began creaking.
"Dude." The figure to his right turned and looked at the Fallen, then nodded towards the table, both of them staring at each other for a few seconds.
"...sorry." The Fallen wiped the table with the golden feathers peaking out of his sleeves, as if cleaning dust, as a sign of apology. Receiving a lackluster nod, yet one nonetheless, from the other, he began shouting again at Red Dawn. "You know of our rules! Your gluttony is no excuse! Our reserves are faltering, we can barely sustain our resistance. Slight in your work again, and you will face the flames of Jola herself!"
"No!" He shouted in horror. "Anything but that, I'll do anything, even, even…"
"Yes." The Fallen gave him a slow nod, sad that it had to come to this. "You will do our homework."
"Noooo!" Red Dawn yelled in despair, the others avoiding looking at him, not bearing to see such suffering, yet knowing that it must be done.
"That was all… we will handle this throughout the week, sadly, I and Great Archbishop will have to pa- pa…" He nudges the figure to his right, the Great Archbishop himself.
"Partake." He muttered.
"Yes. We must partake in supper." The Fallen concluded, preparing for the outrage of the cultists.
"Awww…" The cultists began to head for the exit, getting rid of their hoods and handing them over to a green-haired kid- *ahem* cultist.
Shortly after everyone but the Fallen and his Archbishop left, the two figures at the top of the cult remained in their mortal clothes, figures no longer hidden by the holy hoods. The Fallen was taller, with golden hair, feathers, and yellow eyes, while the Archbishop was shorter but wider in build, his feathers showing shades of blue near the ends of his wings, with his entire hair losing that holiness, instead being a deep blue.
Slowly stepping out of the cabin, the Fallen looked around him, staring at each and every young tree, some barely as tall as the cabin itself.
"Can you believe there used to be an entire city here?" He asked.
"You've told me that a few times, so yes, Herko, I do." His brother replied.
They continued their way through the nascent forest, leaving the cabin, the old town hall, behind. It was supposed to be preserved as a historical building, yet the new city became a farming one, and spread upon a larger area, further away from the old one, letting it be forgotten to time. Yet, it had to be done. After all…
"The Emperor requires his offerings, Liron."
"...Well, yea, but… yea." He tried to find a fault within Herko's comment, yet ultimately gave up, it's not the first time he heard that, after all. The phrase had begun as a slogan for the cult, before slowly becoming a more and more common saying
They made their way to the city, a beautiful thing, each house at least two stories tall and made out of the newest materials available, with the work of hundreds of architects and engineers. The 'fields' of spiritual plants, at this point in their growth just normal plants, were barely larger than a normal home garden. Despite that, a single plant requires dozens of times more effort than an ordinary one, just for a chance at holding what the cultivators call 'spirituality'.
They certainly were tasty, and healthy, but no matter how many you ate, your skin would still lose to blades and guns. Perhaps the cultivators were able to benefit from it more than a normal keku, or they simply liked the taste and had the power and resources to eat as many as they wanted.
For the workers of the city, however, they were simply a luxury, perhaps tasted once a year, the rest of the harvest being sold and exchanged for normal food.
And as the kids reach home, the sun sets, and the city lights up, bright lights at every corner. This was the time for most to interact, a signal that work had ended for the day. Young and old, kekus flooded the streets, heading towards bars, or a friend's house. Most of the kids simply roamed the streets in groups, running around towards whatever they deemed interesting. However, the two had something to do that day, so, with much sadness, they ignored the calls of their friends.
Entering their family's home, a structure that would have been worthy of a king mere decades ago, they sight their father working on a new television.
"Kiddos!" The older keku with golden feathers spoke. "Look what I got here! Guess what."
"It has color?" Liron spoke.
"Exactly!" Their dad got up, having finished setting the television up, and ruffled Liron's hair. "Now, did you kids have fun? Let's head to the kitchen."
"Yes! It was fun, we spent a few hours playing, and had a meeting… then had to call it short." Herko pouted.
"Sorry, hawk, mother wanted you home early…" He explained, folding his arms.
"Are you blaming me!?" A yell came from the kitchen, making their father flinch.
"Let's… let's hurry." He whispered, before grabbing Liron by the shoulder and heading towards the kitchen. "Come on, Liron. How was your last carpentry project? Your old man is free to help all day tomorrow!" The two began to talk.
Herko simply watched for a few seconds, looking at the two before a shudder went through him and he started running towards them.
Why doesn't he offer to help ME?
The sirens start to scream, sounds of panic overtaken by the sounds of the attackers themselves.
From beyond, the wretched hellions fill the night with their deformed yells.
Herko rushes to the window, awoken from his sleep, and sees the disaster strike in full. The earth has split, ravines that reach beyond the center of the world, beyond this mortal planes have opened in every conceivable spot, and through them, beings beyond nightmare emerge.
Their power is unimaginable, they kill and slaughter, and destruction is their only goal, it seems.
Why is this happening?
Beyond the sky, a red light flickers.
The disaster continues, agony, panic, yet not all is hopeless, for a figure emerges.
Clad in golden light, a figure of pure power appears. The emperor itself. His wings ethereal, of fire and might, his figure cloaked in a coat of holy light. And the light only grows in power, more and more, until it escapes its confines and a cloud of flames emerges. The flames purge, monster and keku alike, they do not stop, they do not falter.
Herko is engulfed, his skin is burned, and he falls.
Why is this happening?
The keku kind has turned its back on the red light.
Herko sits up, awakened by a cold gust of wind.
Another nightmare. This was nothing new for him, sadly. They were never the same, but they always showed him the same thing: why he shouldn't trust the Emperor. And… he tended to believe them. He knew himself more than others, even his parents or his brother, his instinct was always right, supernaturally so somehow.
Ever since the Emperor's last breakthrough, ever since the birth of the new god, these… visions of the future have been plaguing him. Always demanding his attention, begging that he does something, that he accepts them.
He had not done that. Haven't given in. Not yet.
But how long would that last?
Time passes, as it always does, and Herko stands alone in the old cabin.
"Where is everyone?"
No one had come, a first, in a long time. His brother, he understands, Liron told him that he would be busy with something while they were at school, but of course, he forgot what. He was busy talking with his friends!
Giving up on waiting for the others, he headed home, the windy day allowing him to reach it before sunset. He could see while gliding down the last hill all of the kids, all heading home from school.
At this hour? Why?
"Herko!" He heard a yell as he arrived home, his mother was upset, very upset. "Where the- where were you!?"
"Jola, don't get mad at the kid." His father tried to calm his mother, to little success.
"Why shouldn't I? Does he even know what he-" She pointed towards the direction of the school, but before she could fully explain the situation, the door opened again. Liron had arrived as well.
"...how was it?" Their father asked, breaking the silence.
Liron simply nodded, prompting their mother to start crying. Herko panicked before noticing that she was smiling. He was even more confused now, their mother, so happy that she began to cry? What had he missed!?
"Can I talk with Herko, first?" He looked at his brother. "Alone?"
Their parents looked at each other, a worried look on their faces before both nodded at them and headed out of the room.
"Herko, I-" Liron began.
"Ok, great, now you can explain! Where the hell was everyone? Wait, you probably don't even know, I doubt they invited you…"
"I was with them."
Herko looked at him, frowning. "Then the school organized something. What was it?"
"You really didn't pay attention?" Herko just frowned harder at his brother's question. He felt as if he was trying to blame him. "It was… testing for cultivation talent, I-"
"No!" Herko yelled. "You, did all of you forget what I told you!? All this time?"
"The games?"
"They're not games! Well, the cult wasn't! I was trying to save you, I… so what, you're going to be a cultivator now? And leave?"
"Yes, but I'll still come here! Often! Especially after… after a few years."
"So what, until then you'll leave our parents alone? You don't care about helping them?"
Liron's calm figure finally broke. "Help them? How have you helped them?! All you do is play all day, and talk with your friends!"
"At least I have friends! You don't, because talking to you feels like talking to a corpse! Yet I tolerate you, and… and mom and dad! Everyone else likes me more, except them!"
Liron froze, thinking about his brother's words. "Is everything you do just so that others like you more? The games, your friends… you just want to feel special."
"I'm special!" Herko shouted. "They say so!"
"They?" Liron asked, puzzled.
They? Herko blinked, eyes shifting down as he thought about his words. Who are 'they'?
"Whatever!" Herko shouted, before running towards the stairs. "You traitor… leave us, not like I- anyone would wan to be a cultivator…"
The night falls, and dreams eventually come, like any other day. Herko's sleep, alas, is devoid of calm, and full of chaos unease.
Inside the void, a thousand stars, the little bird falls. Its wings can't catch onto the void, the twinkles fly past his form, and from that an image of a face all too similar with hair built of cerulean skies.
Liron…
The face breaks into a thousand stars, and the stars too similar to him, form but one shape, that of a pillar. Everything he's ever known, the keku kind manifested through the strongest catalyst, the chaos battering at it, unable to get past.
I don't hate him, he's family, he….
Yet the pillar is not without of flaws, not anymore. The cracked form with dents and scratches can not withstand the forces. A purple mist of sin slips past, a thin tendril of want, envy, hedonism manifested.
He has everything you wanted. Everything you should have had.
The voice calls, knowing his deepest desires. A path forward, as of destiny shows itself in front of him. The void becomes of stone, a dark and empty place, yet it gives the bird the ground to walk, to run forward.
Grab me, child, grab everything you want.
The ground cracks, a storm appearing just to blow everything away, rending the mist to nothingness.
The bird clutches its hands to its heart, floating again, knees and head tucked in.
Herko wakes up.
And opens his hands.
Grab everything you desire, child, it's all yours. The purple mote whispers to him. The Emperor requires his offerings.
