There had been far too many mortals than Dolis expected. He had estimated a handful, a small mobilized group, but they had been stealthier than he first assumed.
More than a dozen were on horses, nearly three times as much trekked on foot. All welded some form of bludgeoning, sword, or bow and arrow. The wagon in the far back appeared to house more based on the clattering sound of metal and stone from inside.
Though Dolis was a god, the mortals' disdain was evident by the way each of their dominant hands gripped their weapons, tilting them in his direction as they neared.
"Dulo incarnate, you are not meant to be here," a stocky-built man announced, welding a broadsword that looked impossibly heavy. Another thinner sword was sheathed behind his back. The three behind him appeared all to be under him, most likely his trusted right hands based on their fine weapons and muscular physique. "Whatever you have planned, it is futile."
Dolis scowled. "I know it is futile, do not take me for such a fool."
"Fool? More like a monster!" the mortal cried. His broadsword wavered between them. "You'll destroy us all if you don't leave!"
Dolis didn't have time to agree with the man, the lady behind him brandishing her weapon too. "Begone!"
The man held his free hand up as if to warn the lady. "I'll deal with this beast."
Dolis remained still, digging his heels into the earth. He knew a mortal would not be able to kill him, no matter how many stab wounds could cause a god like him to die, but it wasn't the pain or inconvenience of it all that put him on edge. It was the blood that ran through Dolis' veins. Any more hatred and anger from these mortals and even the slightest movement could trigger a catastrophic disaster.
The warning signs were already present: his skin itching, warmth spreading throughout his body, his extremities twitching at even the slightest quiver of the mortal's swords.
Dolis needed to endure and reign in the hatred attacking him from all sides, but controlling a mortal's anger was impossible.
"As if Daelia would consider taking you as their equal, it's obvious that Daelia would rather take a mortal as their beloved over the likes of you," she cursed from behind the sword-wielder. Her dagger swung wildly in her hands, its serrated blade as sharp as her mouth.
"I'm aware," Dolis said.
The man scowled, stepping closer till the edge of his sword was just a hair from Dolis' chest. "Then you should know your place and remain in whatever hole you reside."
It stung more than it should have, but Dolis clenched his jaw. If he reacted, he'd fear Dulo's blood would consume him. He needed to ground himself, remain calm, and let them say their peace. They were mortals, Dolis reminded himself. He couldn't destroy any more lives, whether a bloodthirsty mortal or an innocent baby bird.
He resented how far the destruction had already reached; he needed to reel it in as best he could. Dolis was a ticking time bomb and was in his last few seconds from obliterating everything in his path.
A battle cry sounded from behind Dolis, a masked mortal who had strategically waited for the right opportunity. Attacking the god while distracted from other mortals would have been impressive, especially since Dolis had not brandished his sword yet still sheathed at his hip.
Except, Dolis didn't need a weapon; he was the weapon.
The cursed blood raged through his veins, igniting in an inferno by the anger and hatred by the mortals around him. Dolis could not stop it no matter how hard he tried, and he did try. Locking his joints and clenching the muscles as best he could, Dulo's blood was stronger. It consumed him instantly, blinding his vision until all he could see was red, blood red. Resisting its strength was futile.
The sound of his sword being unsheathed and swung cut the air and silenced everything for a second.
And then, the screaming and rain of blood began. It had always been this way, and Dolis was enslaved, shackled by his own blood and corrupt power.
After an antagonizing moment, his vision cleared, but Dolis kept his eyes shut. He hated this part the most, seeing the devastation he had made; the screams and cries were only the precipices of the extent of his actions. It was a sound he never could get quite used to.
He willed his eyes to open, slowly, to see the mangled bodies sprawled on the bloody sea for a ground. The bloody rain-like spray that engulfed the forest around him had turned the tree crimson. He spotted the woman, torn nearly in two, her spine the only thing holding her two halves together—her face, which had been beautiful by mortal standards, completely shredded.
The man who had snuck on Dolis was in far worse shape. He, too, had not survived the attack, but the grotesque sight and burning smell indicated he had suffered a worse fate.
The man who had brandished the broadsword had miraculously survived, or he had been smart enough to keep his distance. His wounds were fatal, Dolis could smell death on him, but he had enough remaining strength and adrenaline to stand before the god. His sword bent in two at his feet, the man fell to his knees, the bloodied mess of his torso finally dawning on him. He clutched his side and looked up at Dolis with malice, although laced with a sense of sadness; death would soon claim him, and the man knew that.
"No," Dolis repeated over and over, staring at the mess of other fallen mortals behind the three. Most had succumbed to the attack, laying in pools of blood. "I-I..."
The remaining dying pleas were as painful as the ones in his head. His hand shook as he took in his surroundings. Leveled trees and brittle and blackened grass splayed flat around him, but worse was the blood on his hands and clothes. Bits of flesh remained, sticking to the fabric of his cloak, his shoes completely soaked.
The smell of death made him want to vomit.
"You monster!" one of the remaining men shouted, pointing their swords shakily at him. His leg was wounded, bright crimson blood flowing from a cut above his knee; his non-sword arm mangled. He could barely stand, using whatever remaining willpower to glare menacingly at Dolis. Judging by his wounds, it would only be a matter of minutes before he succumbed to them, too, unless someone as skilled as Thova could tend to them as soon as possible.
"I didn't mean to," Dolis said in futility. The man's sword fell to the earth, nearly piercing the fallen bodies of his comrades as he fell to his knees. Dolis shut his eyes as the man collapsed, left to rot amongst the rest of Dolis' victims.
Whether he had even heard his words, Dolis knew it wouldn't have made a difference.
☙❦❧
There had been fifty-three deaths this time, none lucky enough to survive such destruction.
Dolis spent a great amount of time with the dead, giving each one a proper send-off to his father, despite how fractured and unrecognizable the bodies were. All that mattered was that their souls be returned to Xiros' realm. He spent a long time with the three that had approached him, praying that they could rest at peace in the afterlife. They did not deserve such a violent end before their untimely death, no matter their motives and actions.
Dolis picked up his sword, still dripping blood from the mortals. It was heavier than most swords mortals used, sleek and slim, with a sharp blade. Despite centuries of carnage, Dolis' blade didn't have a single chip. His sword was one of a kind and one of the most cursed blades to exist, made from one of the rarest metals found in his father's realm.
The mortals had called him a monster, a fool, a thousand extremities, and yet, all Dolis saw was Dulo in his reflection. The primordial god of chaos that razed Estruela in the Great War. Dolis knew he wasn't inherently as cruel as Dulo, but the extent of his powers was enough to call his actions evil, regardless if Dolis had a say when they appeared.
He thought he had controlled it before the war, able to calm the burning of the cursed blood, still the hatred-filled voices in his head. But he had been fatally wrong; there was no way of containing chaos, not in its entirety. It needed an outlet or would continue to fester until it exploded.
Dolis knew firsthand that he couldn't allow that to happen as it did in the war; it would have made today look like a joyous celebration.
The sound of a tree branch splitting into two startled Dolis, the balls of his feet pivoting as he twisted his sword arm toward the threat. Only panic set in mid-swing as the danger had been none other than Daelia. He willed every fiber of his being to stop the momentum of his sword, managing to stop the blade just a hair short of Daelia's neck. Daelia leaned his head ever so slightly in amusement.
The air had been sucker punched out of Dolis at the sight of narrowly avoiding maiming the god of love. Dolis yanked back his arm in a frantic motion, letting the bloodied blade clatter against the stained earth below.
With every step Daelia took forward, Dolis stepped back. He nearly tripped over the body of one of the men, finally glancing away from Daelia's captivating presence.
"Your powers." Daelia glanced down at the fallen men behind him. "I presume."
"I cannot control them as I once did." Dolis frowned, wishing he had said nothing at all. "I wish I could, but I'm... I'm slipping."
Daelia didn't say anything, stepping into a puddle of blood that splatted up his white robe. Dolis cringed at the sight, regret consuming him as the blood of his cursed actions left a blemish.
He watched agonizingly as Daelia bent down, reaching for the discarded blade, the shirt sleeve of his robe grazing the surface of another crimson puddle.
"Don't," Dolis cried, earning a raised brow from the other god, still inspecting the blade's bloody edge.
"A fine blade," Daelia remarked, dragging a finger over it. A smile formed as if entranced by its craftsmanship.
"It's filthy."
"I beg to differ," Daelia said. "It's well-maintained for a blade used in the Great War. Probably one of the finest swords in all of Estruela."
"More like cursed," Dolis corrected. Like me, he thought.
Daelia smirked, giving the blade a once over before handing it back to Dolis. "Even the most cursed things can be well cared for. Like you..."
Dolis stepped back as if struck by an unseen force. "Cared for?"
"Thova and your father," Daelia offered. "There are quite a few others that do so as well."
"They care because of what the curse is capable of," Dolis said slowly. "They have seen what it could do. They care to keep the curse in check; if not, it would be a disaster."
"They are wrong about you, Dolis. You are not naive, weak, or any of those horrid things they claim."
Dolis glanced past him. "You've heard them?"
Daelia smiled in response. "Their profanities are unoriginal."
"You shouldn't be here," Dolis said slowly.
"Why not?" Daelia raised a brow.
"Near me. It's far too dangerous. And with my lack of control, it's a recipe for disaster, Daelia."
"You managed to stop it." Daelia eyed the sword before pressing a finger against the crook of his neck. "Not even a scratch."
"Barely."
"Still," Daelia said. "The fact that you managed to stop your blade from destroying me says something, no?"
Dolis frowned. "What?"
"You're a god of destruction. In ways my powers can translate differently, I'm certain yours do too."
"I'm not understanding."
Daelia smiled. "You have the power to stop this, Dolis, to stop destruction. Destroying yours—and probably other people's destruction."
"That's insane."
"Is it? Think about it. You can will things to destroy themselves and alter their physical and mental form. You willed your sword to stop and disrupt its natural momentum." Daelia said as if it was the most obvious thing. "Those mortals sought to harm, but you stopped it."
"By destroying them. Killing them," Dolis corrected.
"You can bend the destruction of this forest—the destruction of Estruela to stop. Curse the men who wish to blunder the trees for greed. Those mortals would have wreaked havoc on the forest, burned it with improper fire-making devices, poisoned the natural rivers."
"They did not deserve that. Their anger toward me was justified."
Daelia shook his head. "You're not a monster."
When Dolis' jaw clenched, Daelia added, "you don't believe me."
"No," he responded softly, his eyes trailing the wreckage behind Daelia.
Daelia smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes. There was unexplainable emotion swirling in them that Dolis could not define. Dolis would have asked, but Daelia spoke first. "Terah's tree could soothe this, ease your pain, Dolis. Would you not take this opportunity?"
"You heard them. It's futile; no matter my reason for participating, it will only incite more bloodshed and devastation."
"Going into hiding, avoiding the mortals and gods is wiser?"
"Keeping my distance is exactly what Xiros and I must do if it means keeping Dulo's blood from consuming the people and us. You, of all gods, should know how important keeping Dulo's powers out of this."
"Suppressing these emotions, these feelings, and responsibility is not the right way, Dolis. It will only fester and linger until you cannot handle it further."
Dolis scoffed. "So what? Find Terah's tree, drag thousands of Estruela's people into this chaotic mess of bloodshed just to ease my pain? It's as selfish and cruel as Dulo; I won't allow it."
"Their actions are not your own. You are not responsible for their greed."
Dolis didn't want to argue, fearing he would not be able to stop Dulo's power for a second time.
"Come to Terah's tree," Daelia urged. "If not for you or your heart, then for me."
Confusion marred Dolis' face. "For you?"
"Because I asked you too. Others see this as an opportunity to ascend to the high court, to be my equal, not out of greed. But I can see in your heart that those are trivial. You want something else, a sense of belonging and acceptance. Terah can help you."
Dolis pursed his lips, choosing his words carefully. "If I go there and search for her tree, it will not sway anyone's opinion of me."
"I believe it will. They expect you to stay complacent, to remain on the edge of the forests in fear. They will not believe the god of destruction will seek my courtship or a place in the high court. But if you do, it will prove your strength and resolve—that you believe you can be more than what they give you credit for."
"You're insane if you think I could be anywhere near the high court," Dolis said. "Let alone your courtship. The god of destruction could not possibly hold that role."
Daelia tilted his head. "And why not?"
Dolis looked at the god with a pained expression. "I am not the kind of person someone could love."
"I'll be the judge of that," Daelia said firmly, turning and disappearing from the forest.
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