When Gods Were Human—Part Six (Patreon)

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          “Genathor! Snap out of it!” a voice echoed softly in Genathor’s head. It was Andrea back in Tel’Andrid.

          There is nothing to snap out of Andrea, Genathor thought back to her. I love him.

          “No you don’t you big idiot! It’s just that ring you’re wearing. You projected yourself Outside to kill Belorian, not to fall in love with him.” Andrea sounded upset for some reason. She just didn’t understand.

          I changed my mind, Genathor told to her. He put her out of his mind. Belorian was all that mattered.

          The dryad, Sylnya, sat up from where she had fallen. She looked like she had recovered from the shock of having her ring taken. “My love, this man here is the eldrin leader Haedril you seek,” Sylnya pointed at the eldrin she had been holding at knife point just a moment earlier. He was crawling backwards away from the assembled wizards. “I’m the one who caught him for you my love,” the dryad insisted. She stepped forward and dropped to one knee next to where Genathor was crouched in a similar manner.

          Belorian studied Genathor. He felt positively giddy at the prospect of his one true love looking at him. He hoped his body was pleasing, if not he would change it. Perhaps find clothes. Belorian scanned his eyes back over to Sylnya. “You no longer have the ring?” he asked her.

          She nodded without looking up. “No, but my love for you is as strong as ever. I swear it.”

          Belorian smiled. “I never considered that the effects may be permanent,” he said. “This changes things. Perhaps I won’t need to kill this Haedril after all.” When Belorian scanned over to the eldrin his smile vanished. The eldrin had reached the spot where that black bow of his had fallen. Seeing that he had been spotted he swung the bow up and aimed it right at Belorian.

          Genathor looked upon his enemy and frowned. Haedril tried to pull back his bow, but without so much as a gesture the eldrin’s body was pulled up into the air and held frozen in place. Genathor floated the eldrin closer to Belorian to inspect. “Shall I kill him for you my love?” he asked.

          “Slowly,” Belorian said. Genathor didn’t hesitate given the opportunity to please his love. He started ripping the eldrin’s body apart starting from the feet.

          “Aaaauuugh!” Haedril screamed in pain. His muscles flexed as he tried to struggle against Genathor’s control, but it was hopeless. Genathor’s power was absolute.

          “Oh that is a neat trick,” Belorian mused as the destruction moved up the legs. “Lunamancy never makes them cry out like that.” Genathor quickly reduced the man to nothing more than a screaming head and shoulders. He was about to finish him when Belorian said, “Wait.”

          Genathor stopped. “What is it my love?” he asked.

          “I may need him alive to undo the blood pact,” Belorian said.

          “Of course, I can put him back together.” Genathor did just that. In the space of a single heartbeat he reformed blood vessels, bones, muscle sinew and skin. He even improved on the original body. Haedril was suddenly whole again with perfectly symmetrical limbs and well-developed musculature. He dropped to the dirt gasping. It was a rather silly thing to do: his lungs worked perfectly.

          “You gods are—ack—cruel!” Haedril coughed out. Genathor turned to Belorian to ask him what he wanted next, and he saw the forgotten dryad Sylnya leap into the air at Belorian’s backside with her black daggers out.

          Genathor reacted on instinct. His love was in danger. He tried to turn the dryad into a bloody smear with visceramancy, but it didn’t work. She was a plant, not a creature of flesh and blood. In a last desperate move Genathor pushed Belorian out of the way with visceramancy instead. The god-king flew through the air and landed in a puddle of mud.

          With his love safe Genathor restrained the dryad the only way he could. He used the nearby dead bodies. A score of dead and dismembered non-humans flew through the air and wrapped themselves around the dryad’s every limb, holding her firmly in place.

          Belorian got back to his feet in no time and looked ready to kill someone. He looked upon Genathor with such anger his heart nearly broke, but when he noticed the daggers Sylnya was still holding, realization dawned.

          “A trick,” he said accusingly. “The effect ended as soon as the ring was removed didn’t it?”

          “I’ll kill you!” the dryad screamed. Her voice was hoarse with the effort of it as she continued to struggle against her restraints. Her body began to splinter and grow in every direction at the same time. Roots grew from every available surface of skin. “You’re a monster! I never loved you!”

          “My love, she’s going to escape,” Genathor warned. “I can’t hold something that grows like that.”

          “It’s no concern,” Belorian said. He shook his head slowly, “You’re such a disappointment Sylnya. To betray me at this stage.” He waved his arm over the growing mass of roots and branches. Darkness enveloped it, then there was nothing. Just an empty crater.

          “Genathor. Can you hear me?” a voice said in Genathor’s mind. It was Andrea again.

          What do you want? Genathor thought back to her. I’m busy.

          Belorian had turned on the now quivering eldrin leader, Haedril. “Just kill me quick and be done with it,” Haedril pleaded.

          “Do you care about Belorian’s immortal soul?” she asked him.

          “More than anything,” Genathor muttered under his breath. “He is my one true love.”

          “It’s tainted,” Andrea said. “His soul is tainted by magic.”

          Belorian had his hand pressed to Haedril’s forehead and a pink light bathed the eldrin’s face. Mind magic. He was howling. “Make it stop! Make it stop! I’ll do anything!”

          “End your blood pact with these demons and send them back to their plane. Only then will I allow you to die.”

          Genathor hesitated. What do you mean tainted? he asked Andrea in his mind.

          “He’s been using the Conflux for over a century now. You think that’s not taking a toll on his immortal soul? He’s so tainted by now I imagine his suffering in the afterlife is going to be unimaginable.”

          “There has to be a way to save him, reverse the taint,” Genathor said out loud.

          Belorian looked at him with an arched eyebrow. “Can you remove his blood pact? Is it affixed to his soul in some way I can’t see?”

          “I cannot,” Genathor reported. Belorian didn’t realize he’d been talking to himself. “Blood magic is anathema to harmonic magic.”

          “I’ll show you anathema,” Belorian growled. He turned on the eldrin and held his hands out. Darkness washed over him in waves.

          “You think magic can undo magical taint?” Andrea said in Genathor’s mind. “I’m pretty sure that would just make things worse.”

          There’s nothing I can do about it then, Genathor thought to Andrea.

          “You said the suffering would be proportional,” Andrea continued. “That means the only way to save him is to make sure his soul doesn’t become anymore tainted than it already is.”

          “And how would I do that?” Genathor asked out loud desperately.

          Belorian’s head snapped around to look over at Genathor. His teeth were bared from the strain of whatever spell he was weaving, but his brows twisted with confusion. He dropped the spell and turned to face Genathor. The eldrin, Haedril, collapsed behind him. “You are acting strange,” Belorian said. “Are you talking to someone?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

          “You have to kill him,” Andrea said in his mind. “If you love him you have to kill him in order to spare his immortal soul more pain.”

          “I could never,” Genathor muttered under his breath. It was unthinkable. Except… it wasn’t. Some part of him had wanted to kill Belorian not so long ago. To save those living in Tel’Andrid from his wrath. He loved them too. It was unfair to have to choose between Tel’Andrid and Belorian.

          Belorian’s eyes flicked through a rainbow of colors. When they turned green he flinched backwards and grabbed at his eyes. “Gaaa! I knew something was off about you. What is going on? Where did you get that kind of power?” Belorian demanded.

          “It is the power of my love,” Genathor said. “It is the most powerful thing in the universe.” Genathor knew this was true with all his heart.

          “There’s no such thing as—” Belorian began to say.

          Genathor cut him off. “No! Love is everything.”

          “Kill him,” Andrea urged. “It’s him or us.”

          Genathor didn’t want to believe it. There had to be another way. “Belorian. I need you to stop what you’re doing and never use the Conflux again.”

          Belorian scrunched his brows together and laughed. “What madness is this? What right do you have to make such demands from your god? Let me see that ring. Are you still wearing it?”

          “Please Belorian, I—”

          “Never,” Belorian snapped. “I will never stop. I will grind these rebels under my boot then wipe out all the non-humans that remain. I will return this world to the way it was supposed to be!”

          “So be it,” Genathor said. Andrea was right. He would never stop on his own. Tears came to Genathor’s eyes. “This is for your own good.” Genathor held out his palm in Belorian’s direction and let the power of his love rush out of him. It burrowed into Belorian and overwhelmed his defenses like they hadn’t existed at all.

          In one moment the two of them were standing there. In the next Belorian’s body exploded into a red mist.

          Genathor came back to his senses immediately. “Did I seriously declare my love to Belorian?” he asked out loud. Genathor could still feel an intense love flowing through him, but it was no longer directed so intensely at the now-dead mad tyrant. The eldrin lying in the dirt—now completely covered in Belorian’s blood—looked on Genathor with awe.

          “It’s okay,” Andrea said in his head. “It all worked out. No thanks to me. It’s a good thing you finished when you did, I think the wards on your study are about to give out.”

          “Don’t worry about it,” Genathor said. “The deed is already done.”

          Tha-Thump. The sound of a heartbeat. Tha-Thump.

          There was a rush of air and a swirl of darkness that coalesced in the space where Belorian had been standing a moment before. “Did you really think I could be defeated so easily?” Belorian’s voice echoed out from the shadow. “I. Am. A. God!”

          Belorian emerged from the cloud of darkness, hale and healthy once more. He had been dead. Completely dead. The idea that Belorian might actually be a god was starting to seem like it might have some merit.

          “I have shaped the Conflux more times than any other being in history. The power you wield is nothing by comparison! Reality is mine to command!” Belorian held out his hand and Tel’Andrid flew into it.

          GIVE ME POWER! Genathor felt the command rattle around in his head from far off. Belorian was trying to use Tel’Andrid, and the fact that Genathor had heard the command meant the wards on his study were well and truly down.

          The scepter with Tel’Andrid on it began to glow a dull white. Not a good sign.

          “Such a simple spell really,” Belorian said. His eyes were glowing a pale yellow. “Without that tether you’d be pulled right back into Tel’Andrid.”

          Belorian had figured out how Genathor projected himself Outside. A wizard of his caliber could undo a spell like that with little to no effort. Genathor tried to strike first. He blasted out another beam of visceramancy, but this time his power hit a wall of resistance.

          Belorian pointed a finger at Genathor to make his counter-attack. A ball of all-consuming, black nothingness formed before him. Lunamancy. Genathor’s healing magic was totally defenseless against lunamancy. He increased the pressure of his own attack but it slammed into a wall that seemed to absorb limitless energy. Belorian just smiled and pointed his ball of death at Genathor. Before he could release it, he suddenly froze in place.

          “We have him contained for now,” a voice sounded in Genathor’s head. It wasn’t Andrea. It was Elder Jaelyn.

          “Jaelyn?” Genathor asked, dumbfounded.

          “Don’t just stand there you fool! Grab the ring before he puts it back on and takes your mind again!” Jaelyn commanded him.

          Genathor realized what he was talking about. When Belorian’s body exploded his clothes were left behind. That included the ring he had been wearing. The pair to the one Genathor was using to pierce the veil. Genathor could feel the ring somewhere deep inside the pile of gore. He pulled it over to him in a glob of blood and stuck it on the opposite finger to the one wearing its pair. He felt love for… himself. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to save his own life as well as the city that was his home.

          Belorian still stood before him encased in some kind of barrier. It looked like time magic had frozen him in place. It wasn’t exactly a solution to their “God-King” problem.

          “How do—”

          Elder Jaelyn cut Genathor off. “On the count of three hit Belorian with everything you’ve got,” he ordered. Genathor nodded even though Jaelyn couldn’t actually see. “One, two, three!”

          The shimmery field from the time magic that surrounded Belorian winked out. Genathor directed all the power he could at Belorian. He tried to make him explode once more.

          Nothing. It wasn’t working. Belorian’s lunamancy sucked up all the power he threw at it. Love was nothing compared to the infinite darkness of the void. The air around Genathor began to glow with green light and sing with the harmonic of love. Belorian’s orb of darkness slowly swelled as it soaked up Genathor’s attack.

          “Hold on!” Andrea shouted in Genathor’s mind. “They’re about to try something.”

          The darkness crept forward, consuming everything. It reached Genathor’s outstretched hands. His palms were erased completely. Then there was a flash of light. Belorian’s lunamancy was cut off.

          Genathor saw the source. A glowing star. Tel’Andrid.

          “Traitorous—” Genathor shut Belorian up by once again turning him into a splatter of blood.

          “Quick!” Jaelyn’s voice cut in. “Grab Tel’Andrid. We can protect you from Belorian’s lunamancy.”

          “Right,” Genathor said. As unbalanced as his emotions currently were there was no way Genathor could do anything except visceramancy. As it turned out, visceramancy wasn’t a very good counter to lunamancy.

          The scepter Tel’Andrid was mounted to was covered in gore. Genathor repaired his hands from the damage Belorian had done to them. The rings were, thankfully, still intact. Genathor grabbed the scepter. Once he had it the wizards inside pushed luminomancy through the barrier. Genathor’s whole body began to glow with a soft white light.

          I’m so glad you changed your mind about helping me, Genathor thought to Elder Jaelyn.

          “You didn’t give us much of a choice!” Jaelyn screeched in his ear. “If you fail now we’ll all die.” Genathor could feel Jaelyn’s animosity seep across the barrier between worlds. He didn’t care. As long as he was helping it didn’t matter how well they got along.

          “The g-god of light,” a voice said. “Our prayers have been answered.” Genathor looked down. It was the eldrin from before. The leader of the slave rebellion, Haedril. The man who had made a deal with the demons of Hell in exchange for their profane blood magic.

          Genathor didn’t bother trying to correct the man. For all intents and purposes he might as well be a god of light. “Keep your distance,” Genathor told the man. “He will not be gone for long.” His love was still strong; he didn’t want anyone to die that didn’t have to.

          The eldrin scrambled over and retrieved the bow he’d had from before. It did not look like it had been forged by mortal hands. “Why did you help him?” the eldrin asked. “Before?”

          “Because I loved him,” Genathor explained. “As I love you. Now go, before you are caught up in this conflict.”

          Tha-Thump. Another heartbeat. Belorian was returning once more.

          “H-he can’t be killed with magic,” the eldrin said. “The Conflux itself sustains him.”

          “Impossible,” Elder Jaelyn’s voice said inside Genathor’s mind. “He would have been consumed by the Everstorm.”

          Tha-Thump. Belorian stepped back onto the mortal plane. He was in perfect health once more.

          “El katass shor Tuan’Diath,” Belorian howled when he appeared this time. His words thrummed with an energy that had nothing to do with vibrations. Tha-Thump. The heartbeat sounded once more. Belorian collapsed, clutching at his heart.

          “What is he—” Genathor tried to ask. He didn’t get to finish the question.

          Belorian stood and darted forward with an unnatural speed, his feet didn’t even touch the ground. He grabbed Tel’Andrid with an iron grip and tried to wretch it from Genathor’s hands. Genathor tried to make Belorian’s body explode again. It didn’t work this time. Even touching the god-king didn’t allow the visceramancy to destroy him. Genathor could feel the void gobbling up his magic, but there was something more. Belorian’s power was suddenly on a whole other level. “This is the end for you!” Belorian spat. “All of you! It’s not worth the trouble to keep you alive any longer.” Belorian yanked hard on Tel’Andrid, trying to pull it from Genathor’s grasp. He couldn’t let Belorian steal Tel’Andrid or he’d be vulnerable to the god-king’s lunamancy once more.

          Genathor sent visceramancy through his own body instead. His muscles swelled up to the largest size his body could contain. He pulled back with his new strength but Belorian matched him with other magics. They struggled and pulled back and forth. The scepter began to glow with heat and bend as the two colossal forces pulled it in different directions with such force.

          Genathor tried to punch Belorian in the face. His fist hit an impenetrable force and the city slipped further from his grasp. He shifted his grip to the dome of the city itself while trying to edge Belorian out with elbows alone. It was at this time he realized they were no longer on solid earth. They were tumbling through the air somewhere high above the battlefield. It didn’t matter. If Belorian managed to pull Tel’Andrid out of his grasp it was all over. Tel’Andrid was the only thing protecting him from Belorian’s lunamancy.

          All sense of orientation was gone. Belorian put the two of them into a tailspin. Tel’Andrid began to slip from his grasp.

          “Why are you limiting yourself to normal biology?” Andrea’s voice sounded in his ear. Intentions traveled along with her message. Genathor knew exactly what she meant. She wasn’t referring to shapeshifting magic, just a more creative use of visceramancy.

          Bones erupted from Genathor’s skin and pierced into Belorian. Visceramancy didn’t transform, but it could heal incorrectly on purpose. Genathor allowed micro-fractures in his skeleton to shoot growths of calcium right through his own skin. Like quills.

          Belorian shrugged off the bone spikes piercing through his flesh and kept pulling. Genathor opened his mouth and ejected an endless stream of bile. As strong as he could make it. Belorian’s skin began to dissolve revealing a darkness underneath. A darkness that absolutely did not care about acidic bile.

          Genathor reached down deeper. He reached for the most profane abominations of flesh his mind could think up. His skin rippled and contorted. New fingers grew upon his hand. New hands burst forth from his chest and grabbed at the dome of Tel’Andrid. Flesh erupted outward and forced itself down Belorian’s throat, wrapped around his limbs, consumed every part of his body, then tried to digest him.

          Tel’Andrid finally slipped from Belorian’s grasp. Genathor extricated himself from the monstrous creation of flesh he had created and made the whole thing calcify into a prison of bone.

          Then he was falling. He had no idea where he was or how far off of the ground he had been while Belorian had struggled with him. He flailed through the air, trying to figure out which way “up” was. The ground slammed into him suddenly and utterly without mercy.

          Every bone in Genathor’s constructed body broke. He set about healing the damage. He got to his feet and wiped the blood from his eyes. Tel’Andrid was gone. He turned in a circle to find it.

          There.

          Pop. A dark-skinned hand grabbed the city. Belorian with teleportation magic. Pop. Tel’Andrid disappeared.

          “That was rather creative,” Belorian said. He appeared beside him with the city’s scepter in his hands, now missing the orb at the top that had held the city. “But futile. Nobody will ever find Tel’Andrid again. You least of all.” Belorian took a step forward. They were on the battlefield, not far from where they had started.

          “You still have to defeat me,” Genathor challenged.

          Belorian raised his hand. Darkness streamed off of it. Without Tel’Andrid there was nothing that could stop him. “That will no longer be a problem. I was going to have you serve me, but now I think I’ll erase your soul instead.” He raised his hand. “Now die!” he shouted.

          Genathor felt Andrea’s presence. Her essence flowed into him from Inside. Genathor’s skin began to glow with a deep blue light. Belorian’s darkness washed over him but could not touch him.

          “Oh gods! It hurts!” Andrea screamed. Genathor could feel the pain of the Watchtower burning her through their connection. She was holding Belorian off all by herself. “This is for Taendra you bastard!” Andrea shouted even though Belorian couldn’t hear her.

          It was no good. Her strength was giving out. “Don’t get yourself killed on my account,” Genathor told her. Her only response was a feeling of angry stubbornness.

          Then all at once the oppressive darkness just stopped. Genathor could see again. Belorian was hunched over, clutching at his shoulder. There was a hole in him, marked by a burning red wound. A red bolt screamed past Belorian, just shy of hitting him. Genathor looked back towards the source of the attack.

          Standing nearby was the eldrin leader Haedril. He was holding that black bow of his and aiming another bolt of red hellfire at Belorian. He was surrounded by several bodies, and as Genathor watched a stunted fortien stepped forward and slit open his own throat, spilling the blood onto Haedril’s bow.

          “Blood magic! Yes,” Genathor exclaimed. “Anathema to harmonic magic.” If Belorian used magic to fuel his immortality, then demonic blood rites could counter it. It could destroy the spells involved no matter how powerful they were.

          Genathor put all the power he could muster into enhancing his speed and strength. He barreled into the assembled non-humans. “Out of the way!” he shouted. He pushed the next willing sacrifice aside and grabbed the dagger out of their hand. He ran the dagger along his forearm, cutting deep into the flesh. Blood flowed out of the wound. “Use this,” he told them.

          Haedril nodded. He chanted something under his breath and the blood began to flow through the air and into that bow of his. It began to glow with a red inner-fire. Genathor forced more blood out, increasing his heart-rate and replacing the blood with visceramancy as fast as he could. It poured out of him like a geyser. It was more than the bow could use and began to pool upon the ground in a spreading puddle.

          The eldrin rebel let loose with his bow. A bolt of vicious red energy exploded out of it. It was as wide as a charging horse. Belorian turned and faced the attack. He held up his arm and formed a wall of darkness to shield himself. “Noooooooo!” he shouted. The bolt of hellfire punched right through his wall, then right through him. Nothing was left of him.

          “Is he… gone?” someone asked.

          “The demon lords assured me this bow could kill the unkillable,” Haedril said. “With enough blood.”

          “You mean it actually worked?” Genathor asked. “He’s dead for good?”

          The eldrin nodded. “With that much power I have no doubt.”

          Genathor collapsed back onto the ground in relief. “So what happens now?” Genathor asked the eldrin leader.

          “That’s none of your business,” Haedril said darkly.

          “You owe me,” Genathor pointed out. “I think I deserve to—”

          “No,” the eldrin said firmly. “No more gods. We will not suffer them any longer.”

          Genathor blinked. “But I am no god. No more than he was. I simply want to return to my own world and never return to the Outside—”

          “Genathor, you have to get out of there!” Andrea screamed in his mind. He could feel her fear thrum through their connection.

          He didn’t get a chance to say more. Haedril turned the bow on him, pulled back, and shot a bolt of hellfire right through his soul.

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