He knew coming to the forests was a terrible mistake.
As Dolis feared, the calls for his guidance continued. Ranging from mourning cries, prayers, and rallying plagued his mind as the people flocked to the forests.
Help me!
Kill! Kill! Kill!
It started like a hum, growing intensely into a chant, an anthem of the people, patron followers of different gods fighting each other over resources in the forest, and riots in the cities. It grew by the day, hour, and minute.
Each second seemed to drag on for an eternity.
For Daelia! one cried.
"Stop!" Dolis held his clenched fists against his head, wishing he could beat the voices out of his head. He squeezed against his temples, hoping the pressure would be enough to distract from the painful sounds of the people of Estruela. When that didn't work, he took his frustrations out on a nearby tree.
A few hundred flattened trees later, Dolis was exhausted. The cries for help and rage hadn't been nearly as bad as the Great War, but the slow building up of pleas made Dolis fear that he would lose control over Dulo's blood. His fists bled, but it still wasn't enough to quench the thirst that Dulo's blood held over him.
Absent of pain, the sight of the blood was no surprise to Dolis, even if that blood was his and not a sorry mortal who had gotten in his way. He stared at it in amusement, wondering if there had been a way to filter the cursed blood out of him; he continued unleashing his rage on tree after tree. He'd keep going until all of it stained the earth, so long as it was out of his system—so long as he could live normally.
Anything to not be the god of destruction.
Dolis stared at the blood dripping to earth, darkening into a puddle against a few demolished trees. For a moment, he wondered what it would have been like as a mortal; indeed, with the amount of fallen blood, a mortal wouldn't have survived thus far. He knew it was impossible, but he wished he could be mortal just once, succumb to mortality and be a mortal in his father's realm, living out eternity as one of the dead.
Indeed it was better than being an immortal so disliked.
Kill them! Destroy the city! Siege! The voices returned. Dolis wished his mortal fantasies had been real, but this was his reality.
There was a feeble cry amongst the rubble of trees, so faint that if he hadn't been a god, Dolis wouldn't have noticed. But with the short fuse he was barely holding on to, he lunged forward, tossing one of the fractured branches towards the sound. "Enough!"
It cried once more in a higher pitch, and when it vanished, Dolis gathered enough of his senses to glance at the spot the branch had landed. A small bird's nest poked out from one of the larger branches among the shrapnel of twigs and decayed leaves. As Dolis removed a few of the larger twigs and leaves, he spotted the source of the cries.
A small bird rested inside; its body was broken in a couple of spots, limp and lifeless. It looked like one of the branches had gutted him.
"No," he said, cradling the small bird. It was so tiny that it had most likely been a baby, maybe a few days old. "No, no, no."
He hadn't meant it, never did when he'd give in to these bouts of rage. And, like always, someone—or some creature—would always get hurt. The bird remained motionless, void of any life it once had, as it made its last feeble cries of help.
Dolis was no stranger to death—quite the opposite—but there was something about witnessing a needless death, especially for one he caused, that made him hate everything about himself and his power.
"Some power," he said, gently brushing his finger against the bird's few feathers it had sprouted. He was grateful that even this action hadn't obliterated what was left of the bird. "Pretty useless if you ask me."
Despite how many times Dolis had unintentionally destroyed something, none of the deaths had been easy.
"I'm sorry," Dulo said before picking up the bird's nest. He knew his apology was fruitless and that even if there had been a living creature within the radius of destruction he had caused, no one would have believed him to be sincere.
He grabbed a few leaves that remained unscathed, creating a makeshift memorial for the bird. It was a gesture he had seen Thova and mortals do for their dead, creating a raft or bed made from leaves and branches, a sendoff for their life in Xiros' realm. Dolis took the bird and the nest outside the fallen trees, looking for berries and flowers to decorate the nest. He returned to the spot where the bird had been found, gently placing the nest where it had taken its last breath and placing the final flower over its head.
Had any of the gods seen him now, they would've thought him a fool for sending off a young bird with such decor.
As Dolis stood up, he noted it wasn't as pretty or neat as the ones the mortals would make, but he feared his powers would only make it worse than it already was. At least the flower had been a nice colorful touch, a delicate little thing amid splintered trees and dead leaves. He wondered what Thova would think of it; his sister—born of Xiros and Terah—had often made little shrines, creating potions from flowers as colorful as this one as young gods. Thova had shown Dolis the beauty of caring for creatures, yet Dolis destroyed them just as quickly.
Would the bird have grown to spread its wings and fly if he hadn't thrown that stick? Even if he had brought the fletching to Thova, if the creature had perished en route, Dolis would still be in the same situation; Thova could not revive those that have left this world. How could Dolis take the bird away from its home—its family to grieve if there were any family to be had left?
It was an endless cycle of destruction.
It was a miracle that Dolis hadn't destroyed everything yet.
Dolis left the flattened trees, contemplating returning to his father's realm but decided against it. He didn't want to see the influx of souls in the throne room; instead, attempting to let the sounds of the forest ease his mind from focusing on the havoc he's caused.
An impossible feat, but Dolis tried nevertheless. The cries of the mortals continued to plague him, a war cry of a war that he didn't want chanting over and over in his mind. When it got too loud, he banged his head against some trees, which cracked and shattered under his power.
He followed one of the forest's many rivers, wondering if its god, Marth, was mocking him. Dolis' reflection stared back at him. Marth's river creatures scattered at his sight, and Dolis nearly laughed. Why would they stick around for the god of destruction?
Dolis stared back at his face, wondering if it was true that he looked more like Dulo instead of his father. Ever since Dulo's blood had nearly consumed him, he had heard the rumors from the other gods, saying that he had reminded them of Dulo more and more. Had it been Dolis' obsidian hair or the eyes?
It didn't matter how much Xiros claimed; otherwise, Dulo was all Dolis saw when he saw his reflection.
"Why couldn't I have been the god of fucking—rocks! Or books or fish." Dolis groaned, kicking the reflection in the water. "Literally anything but this."
Before the water's surface could settle, he kicked the water again, wishing his reflection would disappear altogether. He wondered if Dulo's blood would also be powerful enough to make him disappear.
"I didn't ask for this!" Dolis shouted as his reflection returned. "I never wanted this stupid curse, to be in that stupid war with these stupid powers to destroy anything and everything."
It had been an argument Dolis had time and time again. His entire existence was a series of misfortune that he had never agreed to. The universe had handed him a terrible hand that Dolis couldn't accept.
And yet, there was still the hope he harbored that there was more to be the god of destruction. He wondered how it possibly could have survived throughout his hardships and in the war, but it remained. Ever so fragile and faint that Dolis feared one, Dulo-induced rage would squash it out of existence.
One frayed string from the verge of Dulo's blood consuming him entirely.
Dolis whipped his head to the sound of horses approaching, the sound of battle cries echoing through the forest. If he were lucky, they wouldn't spot him, continuing their quest for Terah's tree as all the mortals have done. The only path the mortals could traverse on horse without crossing a deeper portion of the river was where Dolis remained. They'd be foolish not to take this path.
His body stilled as the cacophony of horse hooves and battle cries increased in volume before exclaiming their surprise at seeing the god of destruction in the forest. Dolis stuck out like a sore thumb with his pitch-black robe and hood, his ominous sword presenting its own intimidating aura that spooked the horses that first arrived. Their handlers managed to soothe them as they drew their weapons. The men and women on foot followed suit, raising their weapons.
Dolis should've guessed luck was never on his side.
Comments (0)
See all