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Aragella would've liked to say that she never doubted her goddess, but that would be a lie. And she couldn't lie, even to herself. Especially to herself. As a priestess of the Scorching Sun of Justice, it was her duty to remain honest, first and foremost, for there couldn't be justice without honesty.
No, to her shame, she had some doubts, however mundane they were. She doubted whether the white and golden of the ceremonial garb made her look like a paragon of justice and not like an expensive whore, or, for that matter, whether that ceremonial garb really must consist of an unbelievably short skirt and a piece of cloth that was more a bra than a shirt. She didn't mind the sandals, though. They were nice, practical and comfortable. Not that she couldn't see the reason behind wearing a minimum of clothes in the desert, but still. Should it really be that revealing?
She shook her head. Not that any of that really mattered. She could do the bidding of her goddess naked, if so required.
She finished dressing up and headed to the prison. She had work to do, and even if she had her doubts regarding such silly, mundane things, she didn't have any when it came to her duty as the high priestess.
***
Arahella wasn't sure what she expected to see when the prisoner was brought before her, but she definitely wasn't prepared for what she saw. Not in his appearance, of course, his dark gray fur barely registered in her mind before she was prying into his soul. It was just a quick glance, just to see whether he was guilty of anything at all, but that was enough to shock her.
Before her stood a mass murderer and heretic, and, judging by the number of his victims, he wasn't just some random psycho or a cultist. No, the number was in nine-digits, which was shocking by itself, but the implication of how he managed to murder so many…
There were barely a hundred of thousands people who survived the Catastrophe. Those who were lucky enough to survive have the gods to thank for their rescue and the cultists of the god of death to curse for the loss of their loved ones. The cultists that continued to serve their god even after he became so obsessed with wiping out the whole world's population. She could respect their dedication and loyalty, even though what they've done was unforgivable.
Arahella looked at the prisoner again, now with her mortal vision, not blessed by the goddess with her gift of truth. A jackal. How fitting. His god definitely had a sense of humor, despite what she heard about him. Well, a jackal serving the god of death wasn't any funnier than a salamandra serving the goddess of sun, if she thought about it.
"Return him to his cell." She ordered. "And tell everyone that the trial will commence at midday." Not that there was any point in trial after what she saw, but people deserved to know the reason behind their suffering. They deserved answers. And they would get their answers, whether the accused wanted that or not.
No one can hide the truth from the high priestess of the Scorching Sun of Justice.
***
The square was crowded, despite quite a short notice that Arahella gave the people. It pleased her to know that they held goddesses' Justice in such high regard. Or rather, it would please her if she didn't know that it wasn't Justice they wished to see, but revenge. Still, she couldn't blame them. She was the one who told them beforehand who the accused was. And she, too, lost almost everything she had during the Catastrophe.
Still, she would give him a chance to defend himself at their improvised court. She doubted it would do him much good, but he should be grateful for facing a fair trial instead of an angry mob.
"Tell us your name." She could have asked earlier, but she didn't care. People though, they probably did. Not that they were going to call him by his actual name, when they could call him 'murderer', 'monster' or something like that. But it's just easier to curse someone's name when you know it.
"Celkorios," he didn't look afraid. Strange. Though maybe it was strange to expect the cultist of the god of death to be afraid of, well, death. He was willing to destroy the world and all that.
Arahella nodded. "I am the high priestess of the Scorching Sun of Justice." She didn't give him her name – he had no use for it, anyway. "Tell us what you did. And remember, you can't lie. Not here, not now." Most tried to, anyway. She wouldn't be surprised if he did so too. He didn't have much to lose, after all.
But he surprised her. Not only didn't she hear a single word of lie from him, but he was eager to tell everything about his crime. She would applaud him then and there, and he may even have gotten off relatively easy – after all, sincere remorse meant very much both to her and her goddess.
The only problem was – he didn't even remotely regret his actions. If anything, he looked absolutely ecstatic when he was reliving his crimes.
She was sure she didn't imagine a tent in his pants.
"... and then it'd struck me: if the ritual kills everyone in the whole world, I will be dead, too." She wanted to quip about him taking so much time to understand something so obvious, but she bit her tongue. "And I realized that I just couldn't bear the thought of never seeing the destruction I unleashed. So I… subverted the ritual a little, so it didn't kill everyone." He shrugged. "Only most people. The best decision in my life," the grin on his face was annoying, but Arahella did her best to ignore it, "along with the decision to enact the ritual in the first place. You won't believe how good it felt when I got a chance to see the aftermath." She was close enough to see him shiver. When he looked at her, she could see the sheer glee in his eyes, before he turned away to look at the crowd again. As if he wanted to make sure that as many people as possible could see how pleased he was with himself. That everyone could see that he felt nothing but bliss reveling in their misery. "So many dead bodies… You know, there was that town where they dragged all of the dead into a pile, and it was so high." He was squirming in place now. She could bet that if his hands weren't tied behind his back, he would be jerking himself off now right in front of everyone. It was obvious that he didn't have even a sliver of shame in him. "Oh, it was glorious. But you know what was even better? There were survivors. Those who died? They've got it easy. But those who survived – or, they were suffering. I saw a woman that cried over her dead children. I saw a man whose spirit was broken completely, unresponsive to anything, his face completely blank. I saw many, many people who didn't see a point in living anymore. So many tragedies. So much grief, despair, and suffering. Everyone who was still alive was suffering." His breath hitched for a second, his voice lowered to a hoarse whisper that somehow was loud enough for everyone to hear. "And I was the cause of it." Surge of pleasure contorted his face, and when Arahella looked down, her suspicions were confirmed. He had, indeed, orgasmed just from recounting his atrocities.
She couldn't deny that it was impressive. Disgusting, yes, but impressive. It wasn't going to save him, of course, but for some reason Arahella wished she could listen to him for longer.
She had a job to do, though. And there were parts of his story she couldn't understand. Like how he survived the ritual, for example. Those who survived were saved by the gods. And if he betrayed his god, who had shielded him from the impact?
"Which god do you serve?" She had her suspicions. This whole story reeked of her. God of death suddenly decides to kill everyone? One of his followers betrays him, motivated by simple lust? Yeah, she wouldn't be surprised if the one behind all of that would be…
"Tainting Touch." Yep. Her. This kept getting better and better. "She is the only one worth following." Arahella would have argued that blasphemy, but it wasn't worth it.
She turned towards the crowd. "Now you know the truth. There is only one question left." Then she looked at the accused again. The remaining part was only a formality. But she brought justice, not revenge, so her goddess insisted that everyone should be given a chance. Even someone like him. "If the Scorching Sun of Justice spared you, what would you do with your freedom?"
"I'll just keep doing what I do now: making people's lives even more miserable than they already are. It can always get worse, you know." He wasn't lying. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly. "But I will do that regardless of what your goddess thinks about me." She would've thought it was an empty bravado, but he believed in that, so Arahella tensed, preparing for a fight if need be. "I don't need forgiveness. Not hers, not yours, not theirs." He glanced at the crowd briefly, and then they both were staring at each other's eyes.
"You are standing in the middle of Her city, and it is barely past midday." She liked his confidence, really, but what was he counting on? "Your vile mistress has no power here."
He just laughed at that. "I am not counting on her. You're forgetting something." Not her? But who? He is just a mortal, isn't he? He couldn't really expect to fight off everyone here, could he?
Something was very, very wrong.
That was when Arahella noticed. The crowd. All on the square were lying… dead?
"They aren't dead. Yet." Celkorios said, and she sensed no lies again. "But they soon will be, if someone won't save them. I guess I could give you a head start… but my hands are tied. Literally." He smiled innocently. "Mind helping me?"
Shit. That was what he meant when he said that he subverted the ritual. That was why its influence didn't stop after the initial blow. He was the conduit of its power. Maybe if she killed him now, the land outside of the protective barriers would be safe from the ritual's influence.
She glanced at the dying people. If she acts now, they may still survive. And even if they don't… their sacrifice would not be in vain.
She glared at him. "Turn around."
His grin really annoyed her, somehow even more than before. "See, I knew you would make the right choice." He did as she said, miraculously not sensing anything wrong. It seemed that even someone like him didn't expect a stab in the back from a priestess that served Justice. "You goody two-shoes always save the innocents, even if it means helping someone you really shouldn't be helping." She would've laughed, if not for the fear it might tip him off. She had a dozen witty retorts to that, but she bit her tongue again. Clearly, he didn't know much about priestesses of Scorching Sun of Justice.
She didn't utter a sound. Instead of that, she reached for a dagger that was stripped to her hip under the skirt.
"Stop!"
Arahella didn't hear the voice of the goddess often, but it was hard to forget that sound.
It took her only a fraction of a second to recognise that was not the voice of her goddess. Unfortunately, that moment of hesitation was enough for her to miss her target, as her dagger grazed the heretic's side instead of puncturing his kidney as was intended.
He didn't give her another chance, running away before she could stab him again. So she did the only thing that she could think of: throwed her dagger that sunk under his shoulder blade with a satisfying wet sound. Not the spot she aimed for, but good enough.
Of course, she wasn't going to just let him run away in the hope that he would bleed out on his own, so she didn't hesitate to follow the trail of blood he left behind.
***
Ayubilari didn't go to the trial, because what was the point? He never was a curious person and he also wasn't stupid enough to actually believe that revenge will change anything. Justice – yes, but justice will commence regardless of whether or not he will be there to witness it.
And, besides, crowds always made him nervous.
Strange noises from his basement also made him nervous, but a bunch of rats he could deal with. Somehow it felt safer than a bunch of angry people.
He reevaluated that statement when he actually stepped down into the basement. Not the statement about rats, but about his own basement being less scary than a crowd of people. Because he heard voices. And he was pretty sure that rats can't speak. Well, the kind of rats that usually invade his basement, that is.
"Well, that was certainly unexpected." Ayubilari didn't recognize that voice, which probably wasn't surprising, but for some reason that fact unnerved him even more. "Never thought a sunny priestess could throw daggers like this. Hell, I didn't even think that she would actually be ruthless enough to let her people die just for a shot at killing me."
Fuck. Ayubilary froze in place, uncertain what to do. He could be reading it wrong, but he was pretty much sure that the stranger was the one that should be on trial now. The one who almost destroyed the world.
"That's because you are stupid." That voice somehow was even scarier, even though it was smooth and gentle. It was almost like the voice wasn't really there. Just your imagination, playing tricks on you, convincing that there is something scary hiding in the darkness. But he knew it wasn't just his imagination. "She is the high priestess of Scorching Sun of Justice, and she doesn't mess around. Why do you think I'm like this?" As scared as he was, Ayubilary couldn't help but try and see what she (was it she? the voice sounded feminine, but also so unnatural) looked like. He managed to discern the shape of a man, leaning on the wall in the far corner of the basement, but not much else. Or was it?.. It looked for a second as if darkness shifted, almost like a shadowy figure that was moving. "Why do you think I don't risk showing myself under the light of the sun?" Her words were angry, but he could hear amusement in her voice. "Because she almost killed me last time I did, and wouldn't hesitate to finish the job. Me, her own sister. Believe me, she is as ruthless and edgy as you’d expect from someone called 'Scorching Sun of Justice'. And you know what it takes to become a high priest."
Sister. She called their goddess her sister. She must be a goddess herself. And, considering what little he could see of her (or rather, what he couldn't see), Ayubilary had a creeping suspicion which goddess she was.
He stepped back, trying to leave as quietly as he could, but still watching the darkness of the basement warily. Not that it would help. If the goddess of darkness didn't want to be seen, he had no chance of spotting her.
"Exactly." Fuck. That was it. That was how he was going to die, he realized when he heard that same voice whispering right into his ear. Or maybe right into his mind. "Poor soul," she laughed at his panicking thoughts, "you think I'm going to kill you." He wanted to believe that she wouldn't. But he just couldn't. "Stupid, stupid mortal. No, I'm not." Before Ayubilary could get his hopes up, he saw someone approaching him. The man that he spotted in the basement before, the criminal that should've been on trial. Despite the dim light that barely reached here from behind the door, Ayubilary could see the smile on his snout. Unnerving, excited smile, that was almost as terrifying as the voice that whispered in his ear. "He is the one who will kill you."