Sin-eater

“My mother was just the beginning. Duty became routine, chasing after the most evil and wicked I could find, cutting them down, eating up their sins. Maybe one day I’ll pay off my debt, but until then I’m an unwilling god, I’m not worthy of that title.”

“How will you know when you’ve paid it off? When will it ever be enough?” The acolyte hovered, her words a soft and gentle blanket upon the night breeze.

Lucian’s hands snaked up to clasp over his face, shutting away the light of the world and hiding himself from the prying eyes of the critters and night bugs that might be lurking between greyed bricks and beneath extinguished lanterns.

His hands fell back, limp at his sides. He was vacant of the prior pride he’d displayed in front of Kallista, “I don’t know, maybe nothing will be enough. I don’t know what I would do if that day ever came. I’m beyond reconciliation now. I’ll die a horrible, excruciating death one day, and I’ll take all that pain with me, out of this world.”

Out of this world.

What an interesting thought.

Kael’s gaze cast down from the noble man in front of him to the drying pile of blood. His thoughts flickered to the child that lingered here, the comforting hand through its hair. Then to the hand that had steadied him after the cavern, the candies, the whirlybird, the clothes!

The sorcerer breathed in dread and exhaled relief.

Lucian wasn’t some heartless god. He wasn’t sucking the life from fearful souls begging for a drop of mercy, their blood falling into a barrel of similar victims whose lives had been of no significance to their killer.

He was kind, gentle. The kind of man who still saw colour and beauty regardless of the weight of the terror that dragged him back down. The kind of man who didn’t look down on others for fulfilment, found company in whoever surrounded him. His heart hadn’t yet corroded in the tempting rust of time, still soft and malleable.

Compared to the other gods he’d met, the only one who was worthy of such a title was Lucian.

“Sin-eating doesn’t sound all that bad,” He proclaimed, speaking his thoughts out loud exactly as they formed like soft clouds in his head.

The god before him seemed to uncrumple, only slightly, as if he himself couldn’t quite believe it.

“What?”

“Evil-doers are punished, no living soul is harmed. They’re free from pain and pay no price for their wrongdoing. Even though they deserve it, they won’t go on to rot in an ancient hell, instead free to nest among the grains of sand upon the riverbank. You’re a god of salvation, Lucian, not damning.”

Words flowed from inside of Kael’s heart as true as they were spoken, free from anger or resentment.

Lucian stood amongst a line of demon lineage he only knew to fear, but the man’s name was drawn in inks full of grace and familiarity. Pretty lies were woven into those long white locks of his, only broken by that long black strand. Imperfect, but good.

                                             ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The morning after Lucian became Faelan came and went as if it were any other day.

At dawn, the sun peeked its head from beyond the horizon. Radiant rays encompassed all that it could reach, warming the paled skin Kael had developed in his five years of dormancy.

When the first line fell upon his sleeping face, the sorcerer had felt his heart jump forward in glee. As comfortable as Gale Harbour City had become, waking alongside the sun was a habit that he was unwilling to break, and grateful for the luxury of possessing.

It wasn’t long before his feet guided their way to an opening, a broad doorway leading out to the blessed overhang of a balcony that gazed over the heart of White Lily City. It was the kind of place Kael only managed to picture within frozen dreams and stored away memories - never to be touched, never to be held.

But standing tall in the doorway, backdropped by the waking life of the city, Lucian leant against the wooden barrier, finger outstretched as a perch for a bird of sunrise.

A canary sat leisurely, little pink feet hooked around the bone like it had done so a hundred times prior, already familiar with the nooks and dips of the digit.

Its little head feathers nuzzled against the man before it, tweeting in delight when he extended another hand out to rub at its yellow crown.

“Stalker,” Kael mused, slotting in beside him.

“Ah, Kael!” Lucian jumped, the sweet thing fluttering off to perch upon a nearby tree branch, staring down from the maple haven at them.

His face swept away to the side, unwilling to meet the prying eyes of the sorcerer, opting to focus on the bird.

“So the canary was you?” Kael’s head tilted to the side, craning his neck to catch a better glimpse at the man beside him.

If he was honest, he’d begun to second guess the bird.

At first, he’d assumed they were as common as the human pigeon, a novelty to himself that was braided into normalcy for the demon residents. That was until he raised the topic to Miria, back when they were tucked into the boat together, and she was entirely unfamiliar with any such yellow canaries. He’d even recalled its charming dance upon the wooded harbour, met with the kind of reaction he’d expect if he sprouted wings and set flight himself.

Thereonwards, Kael was certain it was no coincidence. Perhaps it could smell the human traces on him, or maybe it had imprinted on his sleeping body as a chick.

Whatever the case, he’d never considered that it might’ve been Lucian’s doing, another chess piece he could knock down and claim as his own.

The noble man’s cheeks flushed in a dusting of pink, as he reached up as if to brush it away.

“Guess you caught me. I’d imagined you’d find out in some epic moment,” The man huffed, adjusting the white strands that framed his face and his composure alike. The tweets promptly ceased into quiet, the feathered bird settling to roost.

As Lucian’s eyes shut, basking in the morning rays, his eyelashes caught the light. Blue eyes slotted into the space where the demon crimson had been, not the icy type that commanded attention, but a muted lapis that complimented the hues sewn into his clothes.

“You definitely don’t need any more of those,” Kael laughed, knocking his folded elbows against the noble.

They let the soft serenity spread between them, not avoidant of the matters they knew they must deal with, but allowing it to exist in separation. They’d surely face their foes one day anyway, what harm could one gentle morning do?

“Lucian,” Kael prompted, watching in leisure as the noble’s eyes fluttered open, "Why did you turn me?”

The question wasn’t soiled in a bitter resentment, rather uttered with a pure and burning curiosity pinned behind it.

The shaman had explained how harmful it was for a god to ignite the change, how it left their vessel after committing such an act.

No matter which way he thought of it, he couldn’t land upon any reason for the interference. If it were the sins of the dead that called upon him, why was Kael left to live?

Did the scent of his crime against the Priestess draw the god in, catching sight of the blood that splattered across his clothes?

“I don’t know,” He murmured, gazing out across the vast expanse of the city.

Down below, the townsfolk were beginning to awaken, eager to venture out from the confinement of their homes.

“What?”

“I don’t remember it. When I woke, my head hurt like crazy, and I found your body in its half state. I was going to… I would have eaten your sins. But you weren’t dead. So I took you to the shrine.”

Then… this past five years, all the time he’d been left unconscious in that shrine, there was no real reason at all?

Rustling leaves filled in the lines as Kael struggled with what to make of it. There was no room for anger, for he himself had no recollection of vast expanses of that fateful night.

“So… When you woke me a few days ago, what was the reason? Was that even you?”

“I did the honours,” He smiled, the fake kind that promptly faded into lines of concern, “You’ve seen Kallista for what she really is - a big thorn in my side. The lines between gods are always a bit delicate, they’re all very self important. Honestly, they’re no fun at all. It's totally insufferable listening to their jabs, so I avoid them wherever possible.”

How very Lucian of you, Kael thought to himself. Perhaps no other in either realm would ever describe the company of a god as boring, but the noble seemed to take no notice of what everyone else thought and did.

“I’m still just a minor god. Not that I’m complaining, it’s enough hassle as it is. But I’m too young to hold any ground, whatever I say is like the ramblings of a toddler,” He concluded, lips ever so slightly bunching in the beginnings of a pout.

“Not sure that’s exclusive to you being a god,” Kael jabbed, unable to refute the last part of his speech. He really did talk a lot of nonsense, in a way that he couldn’t ever quite comprehend.

The man rolled his eyes, pretending as if the corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle in amusement. The dead give away was the canary, a soft melody falling from its beak.

“Kael, I know that it’s hard for you to trust me. But I need your help, I can’t face her alone. Not now that she’s braving the human realm,” The scholarly look and tone took over the man’s body again like it were a passing ghost, drifting in and out whenever it deemed necessary.

Back in his manor, the way he’d urged them to leave. Even back then Kael never really understood it, seeming so rash and sudden for the likes of three demons.

“You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted to come here.”

An angular chin tucked itself upon an open palmed perch, eyes blinking over to where Kael rested upon the wooden bar. A little warmth pooled where their elbows pressed together, like a thermal heat of a magnetic connection.

“I had an inkling. Just like I did when I found your body. Such a pretty sleeper,” Lucian grinned, the whites of his teeth on full display for the first time in far too many hours.

“You’re such a stalker,” Kael repeated, laughing all the while.

“Who’s a stalker?” Miria asked, her voice shattering whatever picture they’d begun to paint.

Both men jumped in a mild shock.