01-24-2015, 07:03 PM
The Regus' words sank deep.
Gods.
All-powerful and immortal.
Their return was news previously unknown to him. He felt his lids slide low, as though unwilling to look upon the man uttering this grave news even as the truth of it gonged in his mind. A pit grew in his stomach that he did not fathom could widen any more than when it was ripped open the night his family was murdered. Yet there he sat, nearly sick to his stomach. Corrado's mentorship provided no guidance for the hunt of a god. He never felt so utterly alone as he had in that moment, even surrounded by the allies of the Atharim.
Yet every Atharim knew the truth of their origins as the Regus carried on to remind them. The godwars resulted in the slaughter of millions of innocent people. The gods stole babies from their mothers' arms. They raped and disowned the resultant bastards. They forced the people into worship! The ruins of their temples remain to this day. Enzo had seen them in Rome. Any Atharim to have visited the Vatican was required to look upon the catastrophic ruin of the past.
They were here, and God save them, Apollyon was reborn? Already? The Regus assigned him a name also.
Enzo paled white as a sheet. The way his children's textbooks described the Ascendancy was reverence bordering piety. His daughter once wrote an essay for social studies class about the man - god - that in retrospect turned Enzo's stomach. It was inconceivable.
The conclusion of Regus' speech left him with a cold hope. Enzo would believe what a great man like their leader declared, but the task seemed impossible. The Atharim themselves would need to form an army simply to battle one god. Was that the purpose of today? To formulate such a collective force? He wondered what Tehya thought.
Very soon, the reality of the situation gripped Enzo to the bone. One of the priests, Enzo did not recognize him, was led forward. A bag was draped over his face but it was Enzo who felt as though he ceased breathing. He watched, unblinking, as the bag was sucked into the cavernous hole of the Father's mouth as he gasped his last. The thud of the body was softer than anyone might have imagined. They probably would have heard a pin drop, otherwise.
The surrounding figures in black were posed like black demons guarding the gates of hell. Or perhaps, more accurately, heralding the welcome of another evil soul. The Father sired and harbored a god. That a FATHER - a holy man of the church, sanctified, set-apart - would father any child was abhorrent. But once he did, he should have renounced his faith and accepted ex-communication. Enzo made the sign of the cross over his chest. A Father engaged in an affair, then covered it up, it was the sort of tale from movies not real life. To become an Atharim, you know the laws and the threats for breeching of one. Father Stone's actions were paramount to treason; a holy man of the Catholic Church who willingly took on the order of Atharim service. Enzo understood the necessity of the execution, but he preferred not to have witnessed it.
After it was over, reality hardened his gaze to marble. What would they be called to do?
Gods.
All-powerful and immortal.
Their return was news previously unknown to him. He felt his lids slide low, as though unwilling to look upon the man uttering this grave news even as the truth of it gonged in his mind. A pit grew in his stomach that he did not fathom could widen any more than when it was ripped open the night his family was murdered. Yet there he sat, nearly sick to his stomach. Corrado's mentorship provided no guidance for the hunt of a god. He never felt so utterly alone as he had in that moment, even surrounded by the allies of the Atharim.
Yet every Atharim knew the truth of their origins as the Regus carried on to remind them. The godwars resulted in the slaughter of millions of innocent people. The gods stole babies from their mothers' arms. They raped and disowned the resultant bastards. They forced the people into worship! The ruins of their temples remain to this day. Enzo had seen them in Rome. Any Atharim to have visited the Vatican was required to look upon the catastrophic ruin of the past.
They were here, and God save them, Apollyon was reborn? Already? The Regus assigned him a name also.
Enzo paled white as a sheet. The way his children's textbooks described the Ascendancy was reverence bordering piety. His daughter once wrote an essay for social studies class about the man - god - that in retrospect turned Enzo's stomach. It was inconceivable.
The conclusion of Regus' speech left him with a cold hope. Enzo would believe what a great man like their leader declared, but the task seemed impossible. The Atharim themselves would need to form an army simply to battle one god. Was that the purpose of today? To formulate such a collective force? He wondered what Tehya thought.
Very soon, the reality of the situation gripped Enzo to the bone. One of the priests, Enzo did not recognize him, was led forward. A bag was draped over his face but it was Enzo who felt as though he ceased breathing. He watched, unblinking, as the bag was sucked into the cavernous hole of the Father's mouth as he gasped his last. The thud of the body was softer than anyone might have imagined. They probably would have heard a pin drop, otherwise.
The surrounding figures in black were posed like black demons guarding the gates of hell. Or perhaps, more accurately, heralding the welcome of another evil soul. The Father sired and harbored a god. That a FATHER - a holy man of the church, sanctified, set-apart - would father any child was abhorrent. But once he did, he should have renounced his faith and accepted ex-communication. Enzo made the sign of the cross over his chest. A Father engaged in an affair, then covered it up, it was the sort of tale from movies not real life. To become an Atharim, you know the laws and the threats for breeching of one. Father Stone's actions were paramount to treason; a holy man of the Catholic Church who willingly took on the order of Atharim service. Enzo understood the necessity of the execution, but he preferred not to have witnessed it.
After it was over, reality hardened his gaze to marble. What would they be called to do?