Three: The Warning 

Warning: Mild Gore

Layre Iarberos did as he promised his mentor. By two months in, Layre had already risen to the next rank. He had been the first of his class to do so, partially in thanks to the wise guidance of Izlaer.  

He and his friends were out in the town celebrating his promotion in the ranks this day. Layre always went with Adreian and Olive to a local bistro just past his home. His father enjoyed taking him there when he was a child, and the whole place brought about delightful memories for Layre.  

“Did either of you hear? Almighty Lectric whispered in the rains that he may bless us with a visit soon. Nobody knows when he is to come, but the town is preparing for his arrival.” Olive says, sipping on red wine. It stains her mouth, and Adreian leans over to wipe it clean with a napkin.  

“What might he want with us?” Layre asks, unamused by the idea. Layre had always hated the Four Almighty Gods. Ever since his father told him the tale of the Demi-God, he had hated them with his entire heart.  

Everyone in Iyelion loved them. They praised them daily, sung to the skies, made offerings to them, requested audiences; they did all they were supposed to, but never once did the Gods reply or thank them as they should. Gods were created to serve the people who worshipped them, but these did no such thing. 

 Down here, a place they never would look, Iyelians died of overwhelming hunger and rapid, cruel sickness. It was becoming more common for healthy Iyelians to fall ill one day to the Dark Rot and to die three days later. It would start with a cough, then turn to grueling fevers and rashes all along the body. By the time it was diagnosed, it would be much too late. The Iyelian mayor had requested an audience with the Four Gods many times to solve this, but each time she was ignored.  

With a single touch of his hand, Sumus could heal every single sick and dying Iyelian. Yet, he chooses not to. That is why Layre hated them. They were selfish, greedy, egotistical, and they locked away innocent children for the non-crime of being born.  

“Who knows?” Olive kicked her feet back and forth. “I hope he considers our offerings this time.”  

“Don’t be too optimistic, Olive. The Almighty Gods do not care for mortal traditions.” Adreian reminds her gently, and she pouts. He quickly remediates. “But do not be sad. I am sure they have their reasons.” 

“That’s true. They are surely too busy with divine matters to have time for such insignificant things like offerings.” Olive corrects herself, and Layre looks away. If she were to look in his eyes, she would see pure, concentrated anger. He did not do well in conversations about the Four Gods. His hands ball into tight fists beneath the table. 

“However, you did spend a lot of time learning the prayers, do not talk so lowly on that. They would appreciate it if they knew.” Adreian reminds her, just to see her smile again. She does briefly, and he drapes his arm around her. 

The three finish up at the bistro. Layre leaves some coins on the table, enough for the meals and a few extra. He bids farewell to his friends as they reach their small neighborhood. He made it back home just as dusk settled in the ever-cloudy skies of Iyelion. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ 

When Lectric made his grand arrival, all of Solmeris heard of it. Layre awoke to the booming of thunderous skies, and likewise, his projected voice. It rang loudly and aggressively across the village. As arrogant as ever, he made his presence known. As soon his feet so much as touched the Iyelion dirt, a vast storm brewed in the skies above. He brought horrid weather wherever he trailed. 

On the streets, Iyelians flocked to see the Almighty God. Lines formed up to the God, hundreds of Iyelians holding flowers, candles, and other offerings. Predictably, Lectric paid them no attention. Soon, he had everyone grouped together in the town square, right by the Remembrance Stone.  

“People of Iyelion, I come with a simple request from the Four. As Winter draws near, please do refrain from bothering us with audience requests and other bothersome, fickle things.” His voice carries across the crowd, who have gone silent. “Truly, we receive the most from Iyelion, and it is getting rather tiresome to hear your mortal pleas.”  

Layre stands alongside his mother and father, towards the front of the crowd. He gets a first look at Lectric. He looks different from what he imagined. There were statutes of him scattered about Iyelion, but they were not accurate. Lectric was much bigger than these statutes, and his face was far less expressive. A classic Lectric statue had smiles lines of marble, raised eyebrows of gold, and squinted eyes of limestone. The real thing had no such personable qualities.  

The God leans on the Remembrance Stone, bending his elbow so that he may rest his head on his palm. Layre grit his teeth in anger. Leave it to an Almighty God to disrespect fallen mortals. 

“What of the Dark Rot, Almighty Lectric?” An Iyelian yells from the crowd. 

“What of it, mortal-thing?” The God sneers back, chipping off a piece of the stone with his nail. He takes it between his fingers and flicks it into the crowd. It smacked the forehead of a young girl, and she ran off, crying.  

“It is killing us; will you not do something?” Another Iyelian shouts bravely.  

Lectric narrows his eyes, chipping off another, larger piece of the stone. The crowd makes various sounds of protest. Layre takes a good long look at him, dark eyebrows furrowed down just above his orange irises, the eyes of a leopard. Seeing all, observing but not striking until the perfect moment. Layre knew it was far from the perfect moment, that would come much later. 

“Why would a God care about mortal death? The sooner you are all gone, the better.” Lectric says.  

“You filthy, good for nothing, bastard God!” Layre turns, surprised to find the screaming voice of protest coming from his own father. “We are suffering! Listen to our pleas; we are the people who praise you!” 

Lectric’s yellow, blazing snake eyes immediately lock onto Silvyr. A vicious grin forms on his lips.  

“Silly mortal. You forget I am an Almighty God. I find pleasure in your suffering.” Lectric lunges, not for Silvyr, but Elisen. She screams so loud that Layre covers his ears with his palms. He holds her high in the air, above his unhinged mouth. It was just like the story of the Demi-God.  

“No! Please don’t! Take me please. Just don’t hurt her! Not her, please!” Silvyr falls forward, trying to reach his wife, but Lectric holds up his palm, keeping him back by an invisible force.  

“Think of this as a reminder, Iyelians. Do not disobey your Almighty Four. For we are the absolute power you all must yield to.”  

Silvyr screams as Elisen is dropped abruptly into the God’s gaping mouth. He crunches down on her, spilling her fresh blood from his mouth and onto the crowd. The crowd gasps in horror, running in terror from the square. Layre falls to the ground beside his father, weeping with crazed wildness as his mother’s blood turns his vision bright carmine. Lectric’s tormenting cackle that follows rings throughout all of Solmeris. 

Before he leaves Iyelion, he takes the Remembrance Stone by the bottom, brings it above his head, and throws it at a home nearby. Screams from the wreckage have him smiling again. A huge dust plume from the destroyed building eliminates the sight of running people. All that is left for Layre to glance upon through the crimson is Lectric as he hoists himself into the air. Lighting strikes all around him and rain begins to pour erratically. If it was not hard to see before, it sure is now. 

“Heed your warning!” He screams, pausing and glancing proudly upon all the destruction he caused. “ Farewell, Iyelians. I hope to see you all soon! You have all been such wonderful hosts!”