The God Weeps

The fortress was still in chaos.

Akari sat outside the temple doors, her tail curled tightly around her paws, ears twitching at every sound. Priests and healers hurried past, their robes brushing against the stone floor as they rushed to treat the wounded. The air reeked of blood and incense. The moans of the injured rose like a dirge. She could still feel the warmth of Noel’s blood on her paws, even though it had been washed away by the white snow. The memory clung to her like a stain.

She bowed her head. “Please… someone… anyone. Don’t take him from me.”

The heavy doors creaked open, and High Priestess Serina stepped out. Her face was lined with fatigue, but her eyes softened when they fell on her.

“He lives,” she said. The woman bent down and petted the little fox. “The wound was grave, but Noel Velrath’s condition is stable. With rest and care, he should recover in a few days.”

Akari’s breath caught, relief flooding through her so strongly her legs nearly gave out beneath her. Behind her, Branek exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing. Lysandra slumped against the wall with a shaky laugh.

“Good,” she muttered. “Because if he died, I would’ve lost one of my drinking buddies.” Her tone was joking, but her hands trembled. “Good... haha...”

Ansel pressed his face into his palms, a muffled sob escaping him. “I should have acted faster… I froze.”

High Priestess Serina looked at her cousin with pity and sympathy.

Branek placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “He’s alive. He made it. That’s what matters. We all made it back today. We were lucky.”

Akari clutched her chest, heart still hammering.

Noel is alive… He’s alive.

...

The fortress square was alive with frantic energy. Seren stood at the center, blood spattered across his armor as he gave his report to the council. Soldiers clustered in groups, murmuring in fear or exhaustion. The smell of poultices and incense hung in the cold air as priests moved from one stretcher to the next. It helped to lessen the smell of blood in the air.

Akari padded through the crowd, keeping close to Branek’s boots so she wouldn’t be swept away by the restless tide of soldiers. Her ears picked up fragments of conversation.

“They never come in these numbers...”

“Something’s wrong. The land itself is changing.”

“They’ll break us next time.”

The fear was heavy, smothering. Akari’s small chest ached with the weight of it.

Caldris arrived, his cloak tattered but his bearing unshaken. Seren saw that his friend had no injuries and breathed a sigh of relief. He scanned the square, then raised his voice so all could hear.

“The corruption’s marks are clear,” the captain announced. “This was no scattered attack. The signs are clear. A siege is coming. We cannot expect mercy or hesitation. Everyone must sharpen their blades, soldiers and civilians alike. Their minds and their hearts as well - or this fortress will fall.”

A ripple passed through the crowd. Some soldiers nodded grimly. Others faltered, faces pale. But the warning settled in all of them like a weight. Preparations began almost immediately - walls reinforced with wards, barricades erected, and scouts dispatched to the edges of the frozen wilds. Even the children were swept into chores: fetching water, weaving rope, carrying messages. The fortress had become a hive, buzzing with urgency and dread.

...

When Akari was finally allowed into Noel’s chamber, she found him propped up on a low cot, bandages wound tightly around his chest and side. His skin was pale, but his eyes flicked open when she entered. Relief softened his features.

“You’re here,” he whispered.

Akari slowly padded closer, kneeling at his side. “Of course I’m here.” Her throat tightened. “You scared me half to death. Wait, not just half. A whole!”

He turned his head away, frustration shadowing his face. “I wasn’t strong enough. If I had been faster, sharper... none of this would have happened.”

She shook her head firmly. “Don’t say that. You saved all of us. No one died! You kept fighting even when it meant taking that wound. That’s strength, Noel. I don’t know what happened back then that led to your exile, but you’re a good person.”

His eyes flickered with conflict. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he reached out. She placed her paw in his hand, letting him hold on as though anchoring himself. A faint smile flickered across his lips.

“We’ll keep going,” he murmured. “Together.”

Akari squeezed his hand. “Always.”

She lingered there until his breathing evened out, his hand slackening as he drifted into sleep. Only then did she retreat, her paws light but her heart still heavy.

...

That night, exhaustion dragged Akari into sleep the moment her head touched the pillow. It was strange to be alone in their room, the silence pressing in without Noel’s steady presence, but fatigue took over quickly. Rest, however, did not come.

She dreamed of an endless, frozen plain beneath a black sky. The wind howled with voices she could not understand - whispers, laments, fragments of prayers long forgotten. The air was brittle and sharp, cutting through her fur. From the shadows, a shape emerged - vast, broken, and weeping. The fox could not see its face, but she knew that the ice exuding from the figure only meant one thing.

It was Thaurach.

The god’s colossal form was drenched in black ichor, the same vile substance that dripped from the corrupted spirits. His body shuddered with each sob, his tears falling as molten streaks that hissed against the ice. His chest rose and fell with ragged, mournful gasps that could have split mountains. His eyes, once imagined as terrible and radiant, were dim and hollow.

His voice cracked the air like thunder. It was booming and echoing in Akari’s ears, vibrating through her bones.

“Where… is Vael-Arin?”

The words shook the plain. “Where is the flame? Where is my rival, my brother, my other half?”

Again and again, he cried out, his grief tearing the world apart. The sound reverberated in Akari’s chest, filling her with a terror she could not describe. A god was mourning - and his sorrow was boundless.

The black ichor oozed from his body and stretched across the plain, veins of corruption splitting the ice. The land itself seemed to bleed. Akari stumbled back, claws scraping across the surface. The ichor crept toward her paws, writhing as though alive. The stench of rot and iron filled her nose.

Thaurach’s head turned, and for an instant, his broken gaze fixed on her. His eyes, hollow and sunken, locked onto hers as though he recognized something within her.

The wind screamed. The plain shattered beneath her paws. The ichor surged upward in a wave, threatening to drown her.

She woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. The fortress bells tolled in the distance, and outside her window, the torches burned against the night.

But she could still hear it - Thaurach’s voice echoing in her mind, crying out for the flame god who was lost.