The Forgotten God

Chapter 59

The events that were transpiring spurred Atum on. In his haste, some of the powder was lost, carried away on the wind. He swore under his breath, sheltering under the remains of a bus stop, the seat still in usable condition.

His hands were shaking as the sound of the crumbling warehouse reached him.

"Shu!" He called up into the empty sky, looking up only briefly lest he lose any more of the precious mixture. "Do not allow the humans to be lost!"

'Yes, great one,' Shu's voice carried back, mingled with the soft wail of a crying baby. 'I must make sure these are safe too, then I will on of swift wings.'

Atum nodded, muttering some nonsensical words of acknowledgment. He could see in his mind, the half-dead mother, desperate to save her child, fearful in the arms of her dead husband and older daughter. All around them, life was evaporating and Shu was their only hope.

He turned his attention back to his work, holding his hand fast over the opening to save any spillage as he slowly rolled the herbs within.

"Peace be upon those who do no wrong," he intoned quietly. "Draw the justice to the blade when it lies in my hands. Sap the power from the givers of sin."

He felt his hands radiate with heat, gathering in his palms and spread through his body. Such sensations brought back the memories of his golden years, the ultimate powers that had blessed him and through that, he had passed those blessings onto others.

A silvery hue kissed the air, surrounding him like a translucent shield, cutting off the sounds of the frantic world beyond him before dissipating in a flurry of sparkles, each making their way to a soul in need, and to dull the nefarious hands that clawed for destruction.

---

The warehouse was caving. Great chunks of stone fell in a violent hail storm of lethal shards, crashing around the humans and shaking the ground.

Babi lowered the sword, allowing the power to seep into the earth and quivering as he heard the distinct sound of movement and the wails of spirits, ready to his bidding.

Split fingertips peeks from the widening cracks and the scent of decay rose with them like dead weeds ready to choke the life from living blooms.

The soldier moved forward, his lance at the ready. But Babi was not his target. He thrust the spear down, impaling the emerging head that was rising from a large cavity, half hidden by shattered stone.

The black maws widened and a long, low groan left the twisted throat of a being not meant for the mortal world. Writhing in irritation, it sank back into the hell it knew.

"Stop the others," Babi snapped, glaring daggers at Kyle. "I want them to remain. Extra meat will be useful now." He knelt down, pulling a barbed chain from nowhere, the same he had used to bind Marie, her blood still staining the spikes. "Tie them in darkness, wrap them in pain. Tear the muscles and rip the skin, so the soul is mine again..."

He hurled it at Kyle's feet, the metal hot from the spell that coursed the links. It burned his palms as he picked it up, leaving red marks that would take some time to fade away, if at all.

He chewed his bottom lip, the sting taking his mind from the more painful searing.

"Let the chain do the work, you dolt!" Babi snarled, drawing his lips back to expose blackened gums. "Throw it towards them!"

Kyle's face flushed as he seethed inside, feeling his blood boil. He'd never allowed people to speak to him like dirt before, not without repercussion, and it was infuriating that he was allowing this.