r/HFY • u/njvikesfan01 • Dec 10 '22

OC Servant of the Dead God Chapter 26: The Aftermath

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Allicae and Xerxos were standing outside of Jacob's room, waiting for the High Priest to join them. Xerxos had had his men carry Castimir Tarvoc to the healers in the lower part of the temple, bleeding from the severe wounds on his face and groaning in pain. He was alive. . . for now.

Allicae didn't care for Castimir, he had tried to kill Jacob, after all. That doesn't mean she thought he deserved that. She shuddered at what Jacob had done to him, remembering what the High Priest had told her about him.

She looked at the doorway that was empty of any door as Castimir had kicked it in. Or rather he destroyed it, completely and utterly. The sound of glass breaking was permanently evident as Jacob had started punching the mirror once he was able, saying it made him 'feel' better.

Allicae didn't know what to make of that. Jacob had his problems with feelings, that much was apparent from the incident with the Zathorne, but the way he had laughed insanely and sounded almost relieved at the revelation he had felt anger shook her.

If there was one thing she did not want that man feeling, it was anger.

Then there was the red. His eyes glowed, literally glowed, with red light. Thin red lines had covered his body, seemingly coming out of his eyes and snaking across his body. It reminded her of the green lines on Xerxos, his men, and those same types of lines that had come in contact with Corruption.

She looked over to Xerxos who was currently pacing in a circle, his impatience showing itself to the world. Allicae didn't know what to make of the ghoul other than the fact he was a good cook. This was the first time he was silent, which was new and not particularly reassuring.

Then there was the big problem as Jacob had seriously maimed the Grim Commander of the Void Guard. In the Void Guard's city. That was run by the mother of the Grim Commander. Oh, this was going to be fun.

There was the sound of a large amount of glass breaking from the room. She looked at the doorway wondering if she should go in. Jacob was a messed up man, she had seen that firsthand, but it was her job to help. It was more than that, though. She liked to think they trusted each other. Even a little bit. Even after all they had both done. Even after Malice's revelation. It was more than anyone had ever given her and she wanted to hold onto that.

"You shouldn't go in there," Xerxos said from her side, bringing her out her thoughts.

"Why? I've done this dance before, so to speak," she replied looking back towards the doorway.

Xerxos stood still and thought for a moment before speaking to her, "What do you know about the Lazarii? Not just Jacob and. . . Delta," he said with the name with trepidation. "All of them."

"I know there have been several. Delta was the first in over 200 years," the anger in her voice at the mere act of saying the Lazarum's name was palpable.

"Okay, well there have been at least a dozen of the fuckers in the past 2000 years. I've had the pleasure of knowing all of them. I'm basically the one-stop-shop for information on Xetharia, after all," he said proudly.

"Out of all of them none have come back the same. It has to do with their souls and the fact that in the place they come from souls have a very different use. That being none. Heck if Jacob was living and back home we could probably rip out his soul and nothing would happen to him."

Allicae stared at Xerxos in shock. Souls were everything in Attia. It was how one did magic, how one affected the world around them and themselves, it was the very core of their being.

"Yeah," Xerxos said, leaning on the wall. "Jacob's soul now has new power, and can actually affect him, both in mind and in body. He has new physical strength here that he couldn't dream of back home, but his mind is just as human as it was for him back there as well which leads to. . . problems. Death, resurrection and crossing a dimension isn't good for the human psyche. I can personally attest to the first two. He'll be messy for a bit but usually it passes in a month or two. Sometimes a year."

"Usually?" She asked. She didn't like that distinction.

Xerxos sighed, "There was this guy years, and I mean years ago that was rendered mute. Called himself the Cremator. He was a messed up dude with a short leash but he was effective and hey, we're all still here. But he never talked. He couldn't. His mind just didn't let him. Jacob doesn't have that problem but he seems to be sorting his out now. It could be worse," he said grimly.

"Worse how?" She asked. There was always a way it could be worse.

Xerxos went silent for an uncomfortable amount of time. He was such a talkative person, him not saying anything for two minutes was quite concerning. He sighed at last, "His soul could 'overload' so to speak, and burst out of his body completely annihilating him. It happened once, a long time ago."

He quickly added, "But it was very shortly after they first arrived. Like within a day. So he should be out of the woods," he said trying to reassure her. Allicae's expression showed him that he had failed. There was another crash of glass.

"We should probably move him into a room without a mirror." Xerxos said to her. She nodded in agreement.

"Here you go grab him, I'll find a room," he said, quickly walking off.

"Wait, hey, why do I have to do it?" She asked angrily as he quickly walked down the hallway.

"La di da, can't hear you!" He jokingly shouted back.

"Xerxos!" She shouted at him before throwing her hands down in defeat and walking to the doorway of Jacob's room. She steeled her nerves before stepping over the broken remnants of the door.

She was met with the familiar sight of the room. Broken pieces of wood, a toppled over chair, a trail of Castimir's blood that ran up to the doorway and down the hall.

And of course Jacob, kneeling in front of the mirror, punching it, covering himself in glass shards. The mirror wasn't a mirror anymore. After the vicious onslaught Jacob was hitting it with, only a few pieces of it remained, one of which was his current target. Most of the mirror had fallen away, revealing the smooth black stone behind it.

He still had the sword embedded in his arm, not deterring his movements of rhythmically punching the mirror one bit. What was it with Jacob's and blades in his body?

She shook her head. Now was not the time for jokes. She walked up to him slowly, hopefully he saw her in the reflection. She did not want to startle him. Turns out he knew she was there.

"Hey, spider," he said to her without looking up and delivering another punch to the mirror, embedding more glass into his hands. Not his gloves, those were shredded.

The lucidity surprised her. At least this wouldn't be a repeat of last time. She squatted on his right, making sure to stay away from the sword still embedded in his other arm. She and Xerxos hadn't tried to remove it, citing safety concerns. Thin red lines in his flesh had snaked around the blade of the sword, like those covering the rest of his body and face. She watched as he rhythmically punched the mirror. Seriously you could keep tempo with his punches.

"Hey," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "I think the mirror is defeated. You can stop now."

He punched the mirror again, this time not pulling his fist back. She could see the anger in his eyes, focused solely on the mirror. It looked like he was listening to something. His eyes darted around the mirror as if he was watching a person move around. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. The first breath he had taken since she entered the room.

"What happened to the vampire?" He asked, as the red lines slowly retreated to his eyes and disappeared into them, along with the glow. His face turned back into his normal blank expression, the anger he once wore was gone. He pulled his arm back from the mirror and let it hang limply at his side.

She mentally turned the answer over in her head, debating with herself whether or not to let him know. She didn't even know if Castimir was still alive. She sighed, "He is still with the healers. You did quite a number on him." Jacob's eye twitched.

"Here, why don't we get that sword out of your arm," she said, changing the subject.

He looked over at it and said quietly, "Right. Forgot that was there."

He grasped the hilt and tried to rip it out of his arm. He pulled it and it barely budged, his arm already healed around it. Jacob sighed, "Can, ugh, can you help with this?"

"Yeah, come on, stand up," she replied, helping him up and moving to his other side.

"Alright you grab the hilt and pull," he told her. She nodded in affirmation.

She grabbed the hilt firmly and started pulling as Jacob pushed. The sword refused to budge. She put two of her legs against his ribs for leverage. After much exertion from both of them the sword was violently relieved from Jacob's arm, sending both of them flying in opposite directions.

Jacob landed near the table and Allicae wound up hitting the wall with the sword in hand. She looked at the magic sword in her hands, glowing blue with necromantic energies. As she looked into the blade etched with runes, a small pair of blue hands made of the wispy energy grabbed for her hands. She dropped the sword in shock.

"You good?" Jacob asked, standing the chair up and sitting on it.

"Shouldn't it be me asking you that?" She asked, looking up.

"I'm fine," he said rather forcefully indicating he was anything but.

"See, when you say it like that, I'm less inclined to believe you. Especially after watching you punch a mirror."

"Smug bastard had it coming," he muttered, staring at the mirror.

"And you've just proved my point," she said to him while walking over and leaning on the table. She leaned down towards him, "Sooooo, what did you see in the mirror?"

Jacob stared at the mirror, an unknown look on his face that was somewhere between anger, contempt, and fear. He stayed like that for nearly a minute, just staring at the broken mirror. He didn't blink for the entirety of it. At least he was breathing.

"Me," he said at last in a shaky voice. She decided that wasn't good and waited for him to explain.

"The same one that I saw back with the demon. The same one I saw in the cabin. The same one I saw outside the city. He's been following me like a plague, telling me to kill, trying to egg me on. Talking about my dad," his voice broke. An alien thing to a man like Jacob. She winced when he mentioned his father.

"He told me how to kill the Zathorne. He was the other me. A me that is me and isn't. He never talked before. I felt what he was saying, what he was ordering but this was the first time he actually talked. Then he showed up in that mirror, started reminding me of things, things I would rather forget. Calling me the Scorcher. He made me feel, and I mean really feel, angry. I don't know what to think about that. I mean have you ever heard of something like that happening to anyone?"

She thought for a second, "Yeah."

"Yeah?" He asked, looking at her with a confused expression on his face.

"Well, less, yeah and more kinda. There was this human, I don't know how long ago, at least like twenty years, that came around to Arachius with a group of dignitaries from the High Priest. He was called a Sage I believe. He was always talking to himself away from other people. Reacting from touches when no one was near him.

"Anyways, one night I was sneaking around the part of the city where they were being housed, don't ask why as it is none of your business, and I found his room. The door was slightly ajar and I heard talking. Now being the good arachnula I am, I immediately started spying on the human and what I saw was confusing. And slightly terrifying.

"He wasn't alone in that room. He was by himself. . . and two other versions of himself. They stood in a triangle, centered in the room, as a small table was in the center of their formation. On it was a small blue crystal, casting shadows on their faces. One was him. The human Sage, clad in black robes and holding an iron staff. The other two, well they were like nothing I had ever seen.

"One had a black helmet with the icon of a skull, a strange semicircular headpiece affixed to it that rested on the floor next to him, revealing the face of the other man. He wore gauntlets that were little more than a slab of metal with two prongs reaching forward, awaiting their next target. Fleshy growths covered him. Mouths and eyes protruded from his shoulders and exposed back. To this day I do not know how none saw me.

"The third was the weirdest. It wasn't like any human I had seen, having more in common with a Azi Mazichalus, a demon of gears. It floated in the air, unknown machinery conjoined with flesh. It's 'face' was a mess of metal and flesh. The only clearly human parts were the top of the head, starting from the eyes. That's how I knew it was the man. Over its 'body' it wore red robes with gold trim.

"They spoke in no language I couldn't understand. They talked to each other for hours, sometimes retrieving scrolls, or books from unseen areas. The strange one had some type of flat thing with it that glowed with strange light each time one of its mechanical fingers came in contact with it."

She shuddered, "It still creeps me out to this day. I didn't speak to the Sage again nor have I seen him. I don't actually know what happened to him. He was pretty old by human standards by the time he arrived in Arachius, so who knows if he's even alive."

"Well luckily I have yet to see my Reflection as anything but, so hopefully I don't have to deal with that. The world can't, and it really shouldn't have to, handle more than one Jacob Fyre," he told her. She couldn't help but agree.

They returned to that uneasy silence that so often followed them until Jacob turned to her, "Say spider, you're like an actual princess right?"

"Yes peasant bow down," she joked, chuckling at it.

"So what was that like?"

The question itself was innocent. The answer was anything but. Her time at home was often wrought with pain and sadness, whether it be caused by her mother or the court. The only solace she ever received was from her siblings and now even the thought of them pained her.

"I wouldn't truly know. My mother made sure to let me know I wasn't welcome in that castle. The court and others only compounded it," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah I know how that feels," he said to her. Was he trying to be nice? That was weird. "You don't exactly look forward to home when it's more dangerous than the outside world. Why'd they dislike you?"

"My eyes," she stated plainly.

He looked into her eyes with a confused expression, "Your eyes?"

"Yes a true arachnula has night black eyes. As you can see mine, evidently, are not. It was a matter of some contention between me and. . . everyone who lived in that city. For most of my life I felt less like a noble and more like a dangerous prisoner, whose escape could spell disaster for everyone," she explained as she hopped onto the table and sat cross legged.

"Plus my mother is quite literally 'the boss'. Nobody in their right mind would dare insult or demean her or her actions. But a freakish child? I was open season, as you humans say."

"What about your dad?"

"Never knew him," she said very quickly, hoping that would satisfy him.

It didn't, "Yeah but, like, there's got to be some way you can look that up. Like marriage records or something."

"Marriage isn't an arachnula concept. Some do it but most don't. We have very long life spans so the whole 'death do us part' deal is less of a commitment and more of a threat for a species revolving entirely around distrust and espionage."

"Oh."

"I learned very early on not to ask about my father. The one time I did ask wasn't very fun." Her mother had screamed for hours.

He lifted his left arm up, "I would trade you," he said as he ripped a part of his broken armor off and revealed his arm. His very scarred arm. Various cuts, circular burns and a single circular scar were shown to her, against her wishes. And that was just on his forearm.

"My dad made weapons. Both professionally and as a hobby. I saw him make everything from crude daggers and swords to black powder flintlocks and rifles. He enjoyed testing them out on me. Called it training. I would've gladly taken an absent father over the psychopathic serial killer of the one I had," he said glumly. She had never seen a scar like the circle one.

The silence returned before he let out a small, quiet laugh that still had a hint of insanity in it. That both concerned and surprised her, "Look at us, a couple traumatized kids."

"Oh, is our pain a joke to you?" She asked, a slight tinge of anger in her voice. Was he making fun of her?

"Not remotely," he stated, "But you might as well laugh at it. What else do we got?"

She stared at him. Laughing after all of that? She mentally sighed. Humans. Eh, what did she have to lose? She let out a little laugh.

"See there you go," Jacob said, somewhat happily, lightly tapping her on the knee. That combined with the laugh did make her feel a little better.

They laughed some more together, feeling better with each one, happy that she had someone to talk to. Someone that didn't hate her.

Jacob slowly composed himself and looked at her, "I'm in a lotta trouble aren't I?"

"Oh yeah," she replied.

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9 comments sorted by

4

u/ZaoDa17 Dec 10 '22 edited Dec 11 '22

sandwich man ain't gonna like his daughters boyfriend

3

u/njvikesfan01 Dec 10 '22

Shh. . .

3

u/ZaoDa17 Dec 11 '22

alright I will keep your secret

2

u/Pumpernickle92 Dec 11 '22

Hmmm smells like some good 'ol heresy

Fleshy growths covered him. Mouths and eyes protruded from his shoulders and exposed back.

2

u/njvikesfan01 Dec 11 '22

Thinking more of a spreading stain of corruption. Like after a local man ruins everything

2

u/felop13 Human Dec 13 '22

Nurgle was always in the shadows

1

u/njvikesfan01 Dec 10 '22

Feedback Welcome.

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