Second Archon War: Carmen Dei 16 (Patreon)

Carmen Dei 16: What if God was One of Us?

On Tuesday, the audience of the Tone Deaf Bards doubled to over 100, though in the end they still ended up owing about twenty marks for the use of the theater. Naomi said a long prayer with Chaim and Malka, and even went so far as to phone her rabbi to talk to him a bit. She was still vague on the whole “Venti is an angel from Eloheim” bit, but it did make her feel a bit better.

When that had gone out on patrol, Venti had oddly steered them clear of the Gesellschaft lab, saying they’d investigate it later. Instead, they did well…not cape stuff. It was more like Boy Scout stuff. They helped little old ladies load groceries into their car, found a lost child and helped them get home, saved a druggie who had overdosed and got them to the hospital, and helped a woman find her lost car keys.

Ok, maybe the Boy Scouts didn’t help someone who’d OD’d on heroin, but it still felt more like good deeds than fighting evil.

“The duties of the Knights of Favonius are to care for the citizens of their city, no matter how small the need!” Venti explained. “Why, one day, I think the greatest Knight in Mondstadt will be a humble maid!”

That didn’t make any sense to Capri or Naomi, but then again it wasn’t like angels were required to think the same way as mortals. Though bumming a bottle of wine from a drunk didn’t seem like the sort of things angels did.

On Wednesday, the crowd doubled again to nearly 250 people. This time, while the theater wasn’t crowded yet, it was over half capacity, and the crowd was even more enthusiastic. This time, Chaim and Malka celebrated by giving Venti a bottle of wine. Well, they had meant it for all of the Tone Deaf Bards, but angel or not Naomi was not drinking out of a bottle with Venti’s backwash in it.

Chaim had chided Venti about “drunkenness being against the teachings of the Torah,” but he’d gotten out a second bottle to share.

Thomas even joined them, excitedly chattering that the Tone Deaf Bards were becoming the talk of the town. “You’re filling the theater more than it’s been in a year! If this keeps up, we’ll be able to afford to put on a real production!”

“Something small though,” Chaim mused, rubbing his chin. “Perhaps…Waiting for Godot?”

“Too depressing,” Thomas said, making a face. “I was hoping for a comedy that was a little less dark.”

“When we’re done, I want you to put on a Midsummer Night's Dream! I have a soft spot for Puck,” Venti said brightly.

“Shakespeare?” Malka asked, looking thoughtful. “I suppose, the Bard is always popular for plays. A lot of our old actors would come out for a favorite like Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Unless we skimp on the costumes, we’d need to make a lot more money though. We had to sell most of ours off,” Malka sighed, looking deeply saddened at the memory. She had sewn a large number of them, not to mention being one of Chaim’s star performers from back when his father had owned the theater and well before she’d married her husband.

“So what do we do now?” Naomi asked, sipping at her glass of wine. “We have three more days of performances. Normally, I wouldn’t want to perform on the Sabbath, but…”

Well, that was a little white lie. She’d made peace with the fact that Friday night and Saturdays were one of the most lucrative and popular times for musicians to perform. She just normally took another day off. It made her feel guilty, but it wasn’t like she was ultra orthodox.

“We pass out fliers of course,” Venti said, handing Naomi a stack, then passing another one to Capri.

Chaim took one, and his eyes bugged out. “These are…incredible! The color, and…real parchment!? How could you afford this?! Where did you even get them?!”

The fliers depicted a stylized version of the Tone Deaf Bards, as if they were a stained glass window, or perhaps a cubist masterpiece, and had the remaining showtimes printed on them and the location of the theater in beautiful calligraphy. The image practically moved on the page, and there was a certain life to the image that Naomi had rarely seen in art before.

“Ehe, that’s my little secret,” Venti said, putting a finger to his lips and winking.

“Why didn’t you make these three days ago?!” Capri demanded. She turned to Chaim. “He just does this sometimes. I have no idea how, but I’m pretty sure he literally makes them out of thin air.”

Considering the amount of Anemo energy Naomi had just felt swirl about Venti, that was a pretty fair bet.

Venti shrugged. “Time wasn’t right yet. Now come on, ladies! Let’s put up some advertisements!”

They spent what felt like the rest of the night putting up advertisements all across the city, with all three of them splitting up to do so. Naomi figured out how to use Anemo to make the posters stick to virtually any surface, and from what she could tell it would last for at least a day or so. She put up posters on every corner, every restaurant window, every bus stop, and on the sides of buses she saw passing by. She also passed out more than a few. Some people leered at her or glared, probably because of the Star of David on her chest, but others were wildly enthusiastic at the thought of a Cape Band, and had heard of the Tone Deaf Bards’ various other performances.

Just as she was finishing up, pasting a poster on the side of a large office building near downtown, she heard a whining engine noise and turned, then jumped back in shock, the Skyward Blade falling into her hand as she fell into a guard stance.

Above her head, a man was hovering, standing atop a winged shape with two whirling turbines that were making a lot less noise than she thought a jet should make. The wing itself was loaded down with weapons, with several gun barrels, missiles, and tube launchers hooked to it. The rider was dressed in high-tech armor that was styled like that of a knight in full plate and colored in black and white with a Maltese cross on it.

“Herr Hospitaller,” Naomi said warily. “What brings you out this evening?”

“You, mostly. I’m afraid I don’t know your cape name,” Hospitaller said, lowering himself until his wing was hovering just over the ground. He hopped off, taking a much less threatening pose, and Naomi lowered her sword. He was one of the Meisters, and though he had been active only a year, he had a reputation as, well, the same noble knight he styled himself after.

“I, um…I sort of…haven’t thought about that,” Naomi admitted. So much had been happening, that she’d never actually thought about that. “Deborah? Er, actually…just call me Naomi…”

“As you wish, Naomi,” Hospitaller agreed. He looked around, then stepped closer. “Look, I’ve been meaning to come find you, but there hasn’t been a good time. The Gesellschaft are gathering. A lot of them. I have it on good authority that Allfather is here, along with Nacht und Nebel, and more than a dozen other heavy hitters. And they’re here for you.”

Naomi’s heart pounded in her chest, and despite herself, she looked around warily. “Are they going to attack? Tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Hospitaller said, sounding apologetic. “My source isn’t high enough up on the Gesellschaft. Look, if they do attack, I’ll stand with you.” He slapped the Maltese cross on his chest. “This isn’t just for show.”

Slowly, Naomi nodded. While not every Crusader Order had been on good terms with the Jews, the Hospitallers had been, and had even sheltered Jews during the Inquisition at times, and had spoken against Jewish pogroms in France and England. There had also been less good times, but she tried not to focus on those as much.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s good to know that the Meisters are on our side,” Naomi said, giving Hospitaller a smile.

“We are, but…well. It’s not a We in Bremen, just me. I’m outnumbered. Badly. Could you call for your friends in Frankfurt, or Berlin?” Hospitaller asked hopefully. “Or, well…retreat. I will stand with you, but I would prefer not to make a romantic and hopeless last stand. Better to strike when we have numbers on our side.”

“Numbers might matter less than you think. We have Venti,” Naomi assured Hospitaller. “And we’re not retreating. Not once.”

That seemed to take the Tinker back. “He’s that powerful? Vornehm said he was strong, but, well, I mean…he is but one Cape.”

Naomi did her best to meet Hospitaller’s eyes, though it was hard with the dark eye sockets of the great helm. “He’s in the same class as the Raiden Shogun. He’s not a parahuman or a Vision Holder. He’s an angel.”

“Really? I would have to ask a priest, but…” Hospitaller coughed. “I, ah, I am a faithful Lutheran. There are some of us left. I tend to believe that the Jews are still God’s chosen, but, well…”

“I tend to think most Christians are a little confused, but as long as your heart is in the right place, I don’t judge,” Naomi said, smiling gently. She did, just a little, but she tried not to.

“Hmm.” They stood awkwardly for a moment, then Hospitaller glanced around again. Then, to Naomi’s shock, he reached up, and undid his helmet. She half expected it to be Thomas, or someone else she knew, but no, he was a complete stranger. A man a few years older than her, with stubble on his cheeks, a receding hairline, and a kindly smile. He tucked the helmet under his left arm, and extended his right hand.

“There’s one thing we can agree on. Fuck the Nazis,” he said.

Naomi took his hand and squeezed. “Screw the Nazis,” she agreed. Even in that, she couldn’t quite bring herself to swear. She knew her mother couldn’t actually hear her, but if anyone could develop a superpower to tell whenever her daughter said a naughty word…

They shook hands, and Hospitaller put his helmet back on, then dug into a utility pouch and pulled out a small radio. “If they attack, signal me, and I’ll come. I’ll stick close to your venue during your performances. I suspect, but don’t know for certain, that they’ll strike during one of them. You’ve humiliated them twice, and they want revenge.”

“Thank you. It’s good to be reminded that not everyone has forgotten the past,” Naomi said with a sad smile.

Flinching, Hospitaller hung his head in shame. “Too many have. My grandfather…well. He was on the wrong side of the war. I won’t be. God be with you, Naomi.”

“And also with you,” Naomi said, raising her hand in a farewell greeting. She gasped, then hurried forward, offering several of the fliers. “I almost forgot! Tell your friends! We’re really good, I promise, and the proceeds go to a good cause!”

Hospitaller chucked and nodded, taking the fliers and folding them before tucking them away. “I’ll buy a ticket, even if I can’t attend. Hard to fit all the hardware under my seat. My specialty is armor, not miniaturization.”

With that, he soared off, Naomi waving goodbye. She grinned, feeling far better.

Maybe, just maybe, there were some good people left in the world.

“Lovely evening,” Geoff said, sitting down at the table.

It was not raining, and the weather was chilly but not cold yet, so this was the prescribed prompt. Dorothy responded with the appropriate answer. “Yes, it’s been a lovely day.”

She opened the box of takeout and felt a sense of relief. It was Chinese Takeout. Exactly what they had every first Thursday of the month when they could not cook. It irritated her that they had been unable to locate good Mexican food, as she ALWAYS made tacos on the first Wednesday, or they went to Some Burros. They had been forced to have sandwiches. Sandwiches! SANDWICHES WERE NOT A WEDNESDAY FOOD.

Forcing herself to calm down, Dorothy served herself rice and beef and broccoli, taking exactly six pieces of beef and eight pieces of broccoli. Then she paused.

“Where are the spring rolls?” she demanded and began frantically digging through the bags.

Geoff looked up, his eyes wild, and joined her. They tore apart all of the bags and the food in a frenzy, then began to viciously attack one another, spitting profanity and hatred. When it was over, their meal was ruined, their clothes were ruined, and Dorothy had passed out from inhaling a good bit of her husband. Which of course, brought out her monster, and she tore apart the hotel room. After all, Geoff couldn’t see her when his own monster took over.

They were in the middle of their fight when the door slammed open and Allfather stormed in.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hissed, his voice low and menacing.

Dorothy’s monster fled, leaving her naked and horribly, horribly ugly, she was ugly, so ugly, they could see they could all see how ugly ugly ugly she was so ugly rip the skin off tear it all of see the ugly ugly ugly

Dorothy forced her hands to stop from ripping more of her skin off, even as her burns and wounds healed. Geoff resolved back into his human form, equally ugly, equally awful. She hated him. Hated him so much. He was ugly, just like her, why did he have to appear so normal, so beautiful? He was ugly!

“I thought I brought two members of the Aryan race here to deal with a pest infestation. Not a pair of children who cannot control themselves,” their Allfather said, looking disdainfully around the room, ignoring both of their nudity, sneering at how ugly Dorothy was.

“Yes, Allfather,” Dorothy mumbled, trying to hide herself with her hands, to hide her shame, her ugliness.

“Clean this up. Tomorrow morning, we plan our assault. Tomorrow evening, the kike, the gypsh and the shim die. And everyone in that theater with them,” Allfather said, his tone harsh, but calm. He turned on his heel and closed the door.

Slowly, carefully, Dorothy got up, and started to clean. When she found the knife, she spent several minutes weeping and cutting herself. She remembered the staying: up the street, not across the road. But she healed too quickly. Her monster would not let her die.

It never had.

Tuning her guitar, Capri could feel the energy. There was just something different about a sold-out performance, no matter how big the venue. There was an energy in the air, something more powerful than even Electro, an excitement and anticipation that changed the air. Their performance on Thursday evening had been to a nearly full theater, with almost 400 in attendance. It had been the most rocking show yet, but this time…

Naomi turned back from the curtains, her face flushed with excitement as she beamed. “It’s completely full! And there’s still more trying to come in!”

Chaim bustled in, red as a beet and beaming with joy. “It’s standing room only tonight! We’re going to have to close the doors! I hope the fire marshal doesn’t come by, but this is the first time I’ve had to worry about that since, well…I can’t even remember!”

Capri nodded, but she didn’t smile. She strummed, and the sound came out just right. Then she looked up, her expression grim. “What are the odds the fuckers attack tonight?”

“They wouldn’t, Hospitaller is hovering just above the building and watching,” Chaim said, but he sounded nervous. “And you’re wearing your Visions, you’ve done so every night! They know you’re capes too…”

Just then, the back door opened, and the armored Tinker stepped in, carrying an enormous gun in one hand, three more strapped to his back and waist. “They’re here! I just confirmed. At least Allfather, Nacht und Nebel, a couple of others. We have to evacuate. I’ve called for reinforcements, but they won’t be here for at least 20 minutes!”

“And call off the show?” Venti said with a laugh, jumping to his feet from where he’d been sitting, apparently completely unconcerned. “So many people would be disappointed! We can’t do that!”

“A-Allfather?” Chaim gasped, going pale and clutching his chest. “B-but-”

“It will be well, we’ve four capes here,” Hospitaller assured Chaim, but he looked nervously towards the curtain. “I don’t know what they’re waiting for.”

“Me neither, so let’s not keep them waiting!” Venti laughed. “On with the show!”

“What!? No! If you go out there, they'll kill you!” Hospitaller protested. “At least let me throw up a barrier to keep you safe! And we have to evacuate the civilians, please!”

Capri looked to Venti. “Do you have a plan?”

“Are you kidding?” Venti grinned impishly. “This is exactly what I want. Now, here’s what we’re gonna do…”

Despite her own fear, despite the panic of Chaim and Hospitaller, Capri and Naomi listened, and nodded.

Capri knew where her hope was. Not in weapons. Not in capes.

Her hope was in her god, and in their music.

Time to break a leg.

Being in crowds made Dorothy’s skin crawl, and she tugged her jacket closer about her, despite how warm it was in the theater with so many bodies packed in. Everyone was looking at her, seeing how ugly she was! How could they not see how ugly they were? All those smiles, hiding their hideous faces, their guts, their bones, their blood, their filthy, filthy guts, the feces, the urine, it would all come out soon. All spread everywhere for everyone to see.

Their orders were simple. After the curtains rose, one of their capes would cut the power. With the lights off, Dorothy’s monster would be free, since no one could see her. She would begin the slaughter. Geoff would transform, and choke those that survived, obscure her, so no one could see her ugliness. They’d kill everyone. First the filthy subhumans, then everyone else. They were all subhumans. All monsters. Everyone except Allfather. He was pure. Clean. He was Allfather, and Dorothy must obey, to hide her ugliness.

Suddenly, music began to play, and Dorothy snarled. This wasn’t the plan! The curtains were still down, they-

… If God had a name what would it be?

And would you call it to his face?

If you were faced with Him in all His glory

What would you ask if you had just one question?

For the first time in years, Dorothy’s mind stilled. The crowd went silent.

… And yeah, yeah, God is great

Yeah, yeah, God is good

Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah

The curtains rose as the second verse played, and Dorothy’s breath went away. At the front of the band, a man in green played, a guitar held in his hands. There were two others on stage, their music perfect, beautiful, incredible. Washing away all the ugliness. All the pain.

And then, the singer met Dorothy’s eyes.

… What if God was one of us?

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Tryin' to make his way home?

Pain filled Dorothy’s mind, her body, her spirit, her soul. She gasped, clutching herself, frozen in pain. Geoff writhed beside her, and across the audience, so did all of the other Gesellschaft capes. Outside, by the power box, another lay on the ground, writhing as green winds washed over him.

Then, the pain was gone.

… If God had a face what would it look like?

And would you want to see

If seeing meant that you would have to believe

In things like heaven and in Jesus and the Saints

And all the prophets?

Tears filled Dorothy’s eyes, but not from the pain. The pain was gone. She didn’t hurt any more. It was just so…beautiful. It was all so beautiful, and she choked back a sob. Beside her, Geoff put his head in his hands and wept.

… And yeah, yeah, God is great

Yeah, yeah, God is good

Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah

A hand brushed Dorothy’s, and she flinched back. She looked up, and saw it was Geoff. His eyes were full of tears, and his face was twisted in pain and regret. He slowly took her hand again, and despite herself, she found herself taking his.

… What if God was one of us?

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Tryin' to make his way home?

With a trembling hand, Geoff reached up and touched Dorothy’s cheek. “I…I’ve always wanted to say…you…you’re so beautiful.”

… Just tryin' to make his way home

Back up to heaven all alone

Nobody callin' on the phone

'Cept for the Pope, maybe in Rome

Once more, Dorothy completely lost control. But her monster didn’t come out. She couldn’t even feel it. She felt…clean. She wrapped her arms around herself, her body shaking and shuddering as she sobbed.

… And yeah, yeah, God is great

Yeah, yeah, God is good

Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah

Images flashed through Dorothy’s mind. The white van pulling up. Screaming, clawing, and struggling, until the hood was pulled over head. Then the lab. The needles. The table. The spiders, the bugs, crawling over her, biting her. It had been her deepest, darkest fear. She had lost track of time, of herself.

… What if God was one of us?

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Tryin' to make his way home?

Then, the monsters. The world-eating, reality-spanning monsters. She had seen them, seen more than she could fathom. Her mind, already broken, had shattered, fallen to pieces.

And her monster had awakened inside her.

… Just tryin' to make his way home

Like a holy rolling stone?

Back up to heaven all alone

Just tryin' to make his way home

Allfather had saved her. Had trained her. Had shown her she was ugly, that she could never be clean, that she had a monster inside her. That everyone did. But he could control it. Control her. That he was the only good and beautiful thing in the world.

Only…that was a lie.

… Nobody callin' on the phone

'Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome

The song ended, and Dorothy and Geoff both looked down at the man, and he met their eyes. His face was streaked with tears, but he smiled. He leaned forward into the microphone and spoke to her. To them. To everyone.

“Good morning. I hope that woke you up. But you’re free now. So. Why don’t we just have a good time this evening?”

Blinking, Dorothy looked around. Everyone in the audience was absolutely wrecked. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.

But then, the music began again, joyful this time, excited.

And for the first time since she’d seen that white van, Dorothy smiled. Not a fake, practiced smile. A real smile. One of joy, for her heart, was at peace.

She held Geoff’s hand. And she felt beautiful.

Stumbling out of the theater, Richard gasped for breath, clutching his chest as he shoved past the wall of bodies. Those eyes! Those horrible, green eyes! Boring into him, into his soul!

You don’t have to hate. Let go of it, Richard. Be free.

The voice in his head, like that of a demon! For a brief moment, it had almost overcome him, overcome his years of training, of dedication! But no. He was a true Aryan. A true member of the Master Race! He would not be swayed by their lies.

Scrubbing his hand across his face, Richard looked back. He sneered. The others, they had been weak. Their blood had been impure. They had defaced themselves. He had seen it, seen their eyes. They had given in to the lies.

Straightening his shoulders, Richard summoned forth his blades, slamming them into the wall of the alley he’d wandered into. Dust kicked up, and he nodded. Something was…different. But he still was Allfather. They hadn’t defaced him completely.

There was a whir of engines, and he looked up, drawing forth more blades as he snarled up at the shape above him. “Race traitor! You betray the German people, the Master Race!”

“Leave this city, this nation” Hospitaller’s voice barked. “We don’t want your kind here, Nazi.”

The Meister cape’s voice dripped with scorn, but Richard stood up straight and raised his arm in salute.

“Heil Hilter! I am a proud member of the American Nazi Party! If I must lead an army across the ocean and cleanse the homeland of subhuman trash, I will!”

The pavement by Richard’s feet exploded as a sharp retort ripped through the night, deafening even the infernal music that could be heard across the street from the theater.

“Only warning. The only reason I don’t cut you down where you stand is because an Angel of the Lord said that this is a night of peace. Repent and beg forgiveness for your sins, and perhaps God shall be merciful!”

“I am Allfather! I am my own god! There are no other-”

There was a boom, and glass around them shattered. Richard cried out, covering his ears and ducking down. For a moment, he thought Hospitaller had attacked, but when he blinked and looked up, a golden man hovered over the theater.

“Scion,” Richard breathed. He grinned and looked to Hospitaller. “Where is your god now, fool?”

Then, a form zipped up from the theater, even as the music resumed. Richard’s jaw dropped as an angel with green wings confronted Scion. The two seemed to exchange words, then, with another boom, Scion left.

Richard blinked in confusion. But…Scion…he was a member of the Master Race, was he not? How could he…?

It didn’t matter. He limped away, vowing vengeance. Next time…next time he would be ready.

And he would bring worthier servants.

The show was finally over. It had gone on for hours, long past the scheduled time. Dorothy found she didn’t care. In fact, she wished it had never ended. She had laughed, she had cried, she had sung, she had danced. She had lived. How long had it been since she’d been alive? She didn’t know.

She sat in her seat with her husband, with Geoff, her head on his shoulders, simply breathing. Most of the crowd was chattering and leaving, though many had gone down to try to get signatures from the band.

From Him.

The one who had healed her.

Geoff stirred next to Dorothy, and his arm squeezed her shoulder. His touch was wonderful. Human. It felt…right. She realized she didn’t hate Geoff. She never had.

“Dorothy…” he said, his voice ragged, raw.

She stirred, looking up, sensing the pain in him. “What? It’s alright now, Geoff. It’s going to be alright.”

Tears leaked down his cheeks, even as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No. It isn’t.”

“It is! It can be! We don’t have to go back to Allfather! Back to any of them! We’re free, Geoff! I don’t…I don’t feel ugly anymore! The monster, it’s gone!” Dorothy took Geoff’s hands in hers and squeezed. “Don’t you see? It’s going to be alright!”

“No, Dorothy.” Geoff opened his eyes, and they were red. Snot tricked down his nose, and Dorothy took napkins from her purse and dabbed at the mess. She didn’t feel revulsion. Just…pain. Not the same as the pain from before. Pain, because her husband was in pain. Because she cared. Because she could feel.

Gently, Geoff wrapped her hands in his. They felt warm, strong, firm. Real. He leaned forward, closing his eyes again, and she rested her forehead against his, feeling a sense of panic. Did he not love her? Did he hate her? Suddenly, that mattered so, so much, when just a few hours ago she hadn’t even thought that he could feel, or would have cared if he could have.

“We…” Geoff swallowed. “Dorothy…we…we were Nazis. We killed…oh god…we killed so many…”

Horror washed over Dorothy, and she collapsed into Geoff’s arms.

The bodies. She could see all the bodies. Those people. Those beautiful, innocent people. She’d killed so many. She hadn’t cared at all. It didn’t feel real, but…she could remember. Remember the joy, the delight, she took in the death. In the pain.

“Oh god,” Dorothy moaned, and she fell to her knees, dragging Geoff down with her. They both dissolved into tears.

There was no way out. They were free, but they were trapped. Trapped by their own actions. There could be no excuses. They had both done such horrible, horrible things. Dorothy could remember ripping apart little babies and reveling in it. She vomited, all over herself, over Geoff, and a moment later he vomited as well, both of them crying out in pain and terror.

“That’s enough. Sit up.”

Blinking, Dorothy looked up. Her vision swam, her head pounded, but…

A hand extended down to her. And then, a voice.

“I forgive you.”

She blinked. “Who…who could forgive…what we’ve done?”

The face came into focus. Green eyes. Dark hair in twin braids. And a sad, pained smile. “I can.”

Trembling, she took the hand, and a moment later, so did Geoff. They were pulled to their feet, and winds washed over them. She shivered and gasped, but when the winds vanished, she was washed clean.

“The past is buried. Your sins are forgiven. You are not the monsters. You were used, you were betrayed, you were violated,” god said firmly. “Now, you are reborn in the winds of freedom, washed clean of your past.”

Dorothy found herself nodding, but she spoke up anyway. “But…I still did…how can I…?”

She looked to god with pleading eyes, and hung on his every expression, every word.

“You can’t. Not really. But from this day forward, you live for others. To bring freedom to those enslaved. To spread peace, joy, and love. To fight evil, wherever it’s found,” god told them.

“Will…will we ever make up…for what we did?” Geoff gasped, his voice trembling as much as his body as he clung to Dorothy.

“No. Which is why I forgave you. You are my Knights now. All of you.”

Dorothy looked around, and saw the faces of the other Gesellschaft capes that had come with them, gathered around them, looking as shaken and shriven as she felt. Fear flashed over her, and she looked around wildly.

“He’s not here,” god told her, and he looked even more full of sorrow than he had before. “I can only offer freedom and forgiveness. But to be free is to be able to choose. I gave you all the power to choose. Do you choose to turn your back on the sins of your past?”

Dorothy nodded, as did the others, hope filling her heart.

“Then go, and sin no more. My Knights of Favonius,” god told them.

Weeping, Dorothy fell to her knees in thanks and worship.

It was the first day of her new life.

Author’s note:

Some chapters are harder to write than others. This was one of the hard ones. Sometimes, I write silly things, like giant monster battles, or children’s card games, or dumb jokes. This wasn’t one of those times.

Some people might say that a pair of monsters like Night and Fog, like the Nazis, can’t be forgiven or redeemed. That they don’t deserve it. That’s not what I believe. I don’t believe that Venti is the one who redeems, or forgives, but I do believe there is one who can. That all of us, no matter what we’ve done, can repent, and be forgiven.

I hope, that one day, we’ll all accept that deal. And we will all go and sin no more.