Humility

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/67447936.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: Gen, Multi
Fandom: Cult of the Lamb (Video Game)
Relationships: The Lamb & The One Who Waits | Narinder, The Lamb & Ratau (Cult
of the Lamb)
Characters: The Lamb (Cult of the Lamb), The One Who Waits | Narinder, Shamura
(Cult of the Lamb), Kallamar (Cult of the Lamb), Heket (Cult of the
Lamb), Leshy (Cult of the Lamb), Ratau (Cult of the Lamb), Aym (Cult
of the Lamb), Baal (Cult of the Lamb), Forneus (Cult of the Lamb),
Original Follower Character(s) (Cult of the Lamb), Original Cult of the
Lamb Character(s), Clauneck (Cult of the Lamb), Kudaai (Cult of the
Lamb), Chemach (Cult of the Lamb), Haro (Cult of the Lamb)
Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Blood
and Violence, Cannibalism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Fictional
Religion & Theology, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, My First
AO3 Post, Telepathy, Magic, Witchcraft, Sigils, Human Sacrifice, Old
Gods, Dark Magic, The Lamb is Not Called Lambert (Cult of the Lamb),
They/Them Pronouns for The Lamb (Cult of the Lamb), Not Beta Read
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of COTL: Revelations AU
Stats: Published: 2025-07-13 Updated: 2025-08-04 Words: 20,865 Chapters:
5/?
 Humility
by Cabaallias

Summary

The Gateway has become unbearingly bleak. The stillness He is forced into is terrible. The
storm of His mind ebbs and flows with fierceness. He has been at His wits end for an
Eternity, it seems. None of His Vessels succeeded in His simple Request. But something
flickers at the corner of His eye. Something tiny. Mortal sized...

Something He has been Eagerly Waiting for.

***

tags will be added as I keep writing and figure out how tagging works on here ;)

Notes

This is my 1st A03 post and serious fanfic, please enjoy! Updates will most likely be random,
knowing myself. I will try to update regularly, though :)

Shout out the Higher Powers that I Consult while writing cause if I'm gonna do this, I'm
gonna do this RIGHT!

(I also post fanart on my tumblr under the same user, if you wanna check it out :))

See the end of the work for more notes

 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“Regular speech”

Thoughts

“God speech”

God thought

Bishop through crown

‘crown -speak’

“Lamb speech”

***

Praise the lamb; conduit to great power, promised liberator of the one who waits below.

Yet sacrificial beast, take heed; for a crown cannot sit upon two brows.

***

The iron collar chills their neck as they are made to kneel before the Bishops of the Old
Faith. The cold of the ritual stone bites at their bare legs and grit dirties their shorn wool even
more. They shake in their restraints. Not because of the overbearing presence of the Gods in
front of them, nor the enclosing followers in black and gold robes, but because of the cold of
the night. The breeze cutting through the trees of Darkwood and sinking into the skin.

A thunderous, gravely voice cuts through the crackling of fire.

“Before Us stands the last of its kind. All others We have hunted down and put to the
blade.”
They dare not to look up into the face of Famine,

“With this final sacrifice, the Prophecy will be impossible to Fulfill.”

Into the face of Pestilence,

“The Heretic who lies Bound Below will be Condemned to Eternal Captivity.”

Nor the leaves of Chaos,

“And the Old Faith shall be Preserved.”

And certainly not the cruelness of War. The one that called upon their kind’s deaths many
years ago.

And they heard the heavy hoofsteps of the Hunter — the boar that they despise with every
fiber of their being — getting closer to their prone form. The grating of stone on stone grinds
its memory deeper into their mind. And, involuntarily, their heart begins to beat faster.
Pounding in their ribcage with the Hunter’s grunts. Their throat closes up and their eyes
water despite their wants to deny every creature that has ever slighted them and their people
the satisfaction. They felt betrayed by their own body. The shaking, the choked sobs escaping
them, the sound of their prey heart trying to run from their chest —

First it was darkness — sudden, yet anticipated by them — and then there was light. Not
blinding, but the whitest light they have ever seen. Their heart beat was no more, lost to the
downward swing of the Hunter’s axe. They knew they must have died. Must have been
sacrificed. They have seen the bare numbers of their previous flock trapped, hunted, and
killed the same way by the Hunter’s party. Sacrifices to strengthen Gods who do nothing for
them. This fact should hurt them deeply. That they had fallen victim too. But the feeling is
strangely dull — silent? Weakened by death?
And then the soft, lighter grey fog flits in front of their face and brings them out of their
reverie. Curiously, the whiteness of the realm they are in begins to deepen. Soft greys of the
mist, offish tan-white of skulls, pale wooden crosses, and iron chains. The same that binds
them still. And that fact momentarily takes them aback. Shouldn’t their restraints be gone
with their death?

They took a careful step off of the raised dark stone they had gained another awareness in. A
simple red pentagram outlined in black circle markings. The lighter symbols around the stone
platform strangely did not budge as their feet kicked up what seems to feel like ash but
ripples like water. A contradiction that they decide to not dwell on.

They continue their slow march forward, and the faint whisper of dragging metal graces their
ears like an owl’s screech. Curiously, they continue and the sounds get louder, yet softer in
speech. Sand mounds on either side of them fluctuate in their height with the rising and
lowering of the fog as they walk. The chains, they notice, begin to move as if a particularly
irate snake in tall grass. Some jerk, some minutely shake, others ascend stiffly from the ash-
water. And slowly, larger silhouettes begin to take shape. Dark amidst the light of the realm.
There are three of them; the one in the middle is larger by half of the smaller ones. The closer
they approach, the more the mist reveals to them. Parting for them to see white and black and
red. They watch the movement of fabric and erratic twitching — pulling — against the huge
chains that shift around them. They think that they must be strange visions made by this
empty plain since they have not noticed them draw near,

“Come closer.”

They freeze where they are, surely thinly hidden within the mist. A second passes in
hesitance, ice crawling up their spine, and then their body moves, answering the call without
their input.

A final step out of the fog completely cleared their sight upon the figures. All three were
felines with pitch black fur and cold red eyes. The two at the sides were still, sitting on their
legs with postures that the highest of aristocrats would be envious of. They are like statues
despite the way their matching cloaks move in the nonexistent breeze. Move with each rise
and fall of their chests.

“Fear not,”
The voice was deep, raspy, and cold, yet strangely inviting. Earth shatteringly quiet and
reassuring and shockingly familiar. However, when they looked upon the middle cat, huge in
his stature, yet condensed by imposing iron chains, they felt nothing come to mind. No
memory of his voice or appearance — an angular face, three black and red eyes, and big,
pricked ears with the right one torn or bitten off by something with lots of sharp teeth. White
robes joined seamlessly in the ash-water of this realm and the bright red strip flowed down
the hem of his hood to the shroud, then the jacket(?) and the skirts. And over all of that, black
stains the torn fabric at the front, sides, almost anywhere their eyes landed on.

“For though you are already Dead, I still have Need of you. ”

A single, muted thought bubbled up: Dead? Have need of me? For what?

“Those foolish Bishops thought They could keep you from Me in Death.”

While the towering cat in front of them spoke, they glanced over the twin statues.

The left wore black and red with embroidered upside down crosses and a red, spindly flower
pinned onto the cloak. An intimidating moon stave was held tightly in their hand, standing
right at the level of their nicked ears and scarred right eye. It was nearly all white, as opposed
to the black and red left eye. His expression was dour; stoicism boarding a scowl. They
averted their gaze down to a sheep skull necklace around the collar of the cloak. More
uneasiness twisted up under the numbness and they looked to the right feline.

“But instead They sent you straight to Me.”

Thankfully, they seemed slightly more friendly. They wore white with black tassels and red
embroidered crosses — right-side up this time. Their stave was of a sun, spikes protruding
from the circle to mimic rays. Their eyes were black and red as well. Their necklace was of a
red heart and a camellia was on the right breast of their cloak. They felt a lot more eased with
them, despite giving off the same, imposing aura and face as its twin behind simple black
veils.
“I will give you Life again,”

What?!

An amused purr rumbled from his throat. “That caught your attention, didn’t it?” Their
awed silence was taken as a confirmation. “Before We move on, it is clear that you have
questions. Ask.”

They gulped, shifting on their feet as they listed each mystery up in their head. They opened
their mouth but their throat was still closed tight. It took them a minute to unwind, to gasp in
air. The feline was patient, head minutely tilting to the left.

“Wha-who are you?”

A soft, curious sound escapes from him. “Most would have known of Me by word of
mouth. Especially your kind.”

“My kind?”

“Yes. Sheepkin have known of Me as Death. But now I am referred to by the titles of
The Heretic, The Bound One, The Chained One, so forth. However, I much prefer the
name The One Who Waits.”

This is news to them. Before the Culling? Death?

“You are the Heretic that the Bishops speak against so fiercely? The Heretic of the
Prophecy?”

The Heretic dips his head in confirmation and they suddenly realize that there was a Crown
with an ovular Red Eye examining them as intently as the God that wore It.
They have heard of the Prophecy in passing before, speaking of a chained god who sought to
bring the destruction of the Old Faith. They always believed it as an excuse for the Bishops to
be unnecessarily cruel to what little was left of the shining, innocent souls crushed under
them. To breed fear into their cult so they could have more power from their submission.
Their tiny flock had also muttered another reason for the Culling: That their people once
served The Heretic. But the values that they had learned from their parents spoke otherwise.
Sheepkin lived in freedom; out from under the power of cults.

“Is it true that you wish for the destruction of the Old Faith?”

A hum of agreement.

“Why?”

A rich chuckle escaped Him as a close-lipped smile curled up His face. “That answer
should be obvious, Little Lamb. And am I under the right impression that you also wish
for Their Destruction?”

Dark, depressing memories suddenly flash behind their eyes and they respond with a resolute
“Absolutely.”

The wide smile broke fully into that of dark mirth. Lips parted for blackened teeth that had
the littlest of a gleam of something shiny coating His fangs. “Wise Choice.” A shiver broke
down their spine, and they felt as if they had confirmed something deeper than a question.
“Then perhaps I should start over.”

The Cat straightens up as much as He can, lifting His head high as if His restraints are mere
nuisances to Him; and perhaps they are.

His voice bellows with Great Power and Prestige as He lays out His Offer once more.
“I will give you Life again, but at a Price! All I Ask of you is to start a Cult in My
Name.

“Take the Red Crown which I Once Wore. With it you shall command the Loyalty of
followers and strike Fear into the Hearts of Our Enemies.

“Become My Vessel in the Waking World that I cannot Walk. Gain Power so that I May
Gain Power. Slay each Bishop so that I May be Free of the Cursed Chains that Bind Me.
Speak, Live, Enact My Word so We May have Vengeance on Those that Have
Oppressed Us.

“Do We have a Deal?”

Any hesitance that they previously held was washed away by clarity. All they have to do is
garner a following, a cult, for an exiled god that wishes Justice upon the Bishops that
chained Him. The same thing that has happened to their own people. They want Justice for
them, for the others that they killed who did not comply in the Genocide. And is it not a
saying that Death is the Ultimate Equalizer?

“Absolutely.”

A great, rumbling purr, like velveteen thunder, rolled over the realm of Death. A black,
skeletal arm dripping with sinew and Ichor — god blood — reached towards them. The
wickedly sharp and long Claws glowed red, along with The One Who Wait’s and the Red
Crown’s eyes. Magic encased them, bearing down on their body. There was creaking and
snapping and all of the sudden the iron chains that bound them were disappearing into the
ash-water below them. The tattered rags around them fell away too, but the tingling and the
stinging and the nausea in their stomach prevented them from being embarrassed by their
sudden nakedness. The Red Crown lifted from between the ears of the God of Death and
struck a deep sense of something into them. The mist and ash and sand swirled to make way
for thick black masses from below.

“Do not fear, Babylon-Kagan. Resurrection is only a momentary discomfort compared

to the Vitality of Life and the Relief of Death. Return to the Land of the Living, start a
Cult in My Name and begin recruiting followers. An old rat shall meet you upon My
Orders. He shall be your Guide. Listen to him, for you shall be Listening to Me. ”
Tentacles wrapped tightly around them, their vision blurring and their mind buzzing with the
Whispers of the Dead. Three glowing white lights shone down on them, actually blinding
them.

“Once you have done My task, you will see Me again. Now, Go forth and Conquer, My
Lamb! Heed thy Creators Will!”

***

Light, and then Darkness, and then light again. Babylon’s body jerks, pain shooting through
their neck and spine and head. They cough, something coming up with the heaving of their
stomach. It tastes like ash, yet wets everything it touches. Their eyes sting as they blink
against the harshness of the twilight of Darkwood. Everything was loud. The critters
skittering in the brush, the breeze in the leaves, the shocked gasps of followers.

Wait—!

Babylon scrambles up to their feet, and they feel something nestle into the wool upon their
head. Oh, yes, the Crown!

Their momentary pain escapes them as the last of the black liquid is spit out of their mouth.
They blinked rapidly, surveying the stunned stillness of the followers of the Old Faith. A shift
to their right alerts them, and they fall into a familiar dance of battle. They try to reach for a
weapon in their pocket as they dodge backwards, only to realize they have no pockets. Panic
rises in them as the followers all pull out daggers from their sleeves and advance.

‘Worry not, for I am more than just a Crown to be worn.’

Something slides into Babylon’s hand. They shake off their confusion at the voice in their
head and grip the handle of the short sword tightly. They pivot to the closest Old Faith
follower they see and swing. The silver blade connects and slides seamlessly through their
midsection. Blood and guts gush out and they collapse with a scream. The sheep gapes at the
effortless damage, but focuses back to the threat at hand. The next follower’s knife hand was
severed at the wrist and then the blade was plunged into their chest. Three more fall with
ease.

The last follower within the clearing of their sacrificial altar is a hulking boar. An
executioner's mask shielded his face, but the war axe told Babylon his identity.

The Hunter. The one who organized the search parties for sheepkin. Who killed them all
mercilessly for what Babylon suspects is for prestige, power, pride, recognition by the
Bishops. Rage fills them, and they know that they do not care for this creature. They will not
offer up any more of their time to a heathen. A heretic.

The fight ended as fast as it began. He was slow with the huge stone axe in his hand. The one
for formal sacrificing, not for hunting like they had seen him use before. Three strikes was all
it took. Deep cuts to the arm and leg, so they’re useless, and then one through the neck.
Something of a mockery of their own death. They hope he chokes on his own blood within
that mask he wore like a prize before he fully passes. Hopes he suffers before joining the rest
in Death.

Babylon was tempted to stay in the clearing and get a breath, but the Red Crown encourages
them to move. That more enemies will descend upon them like ravenous cannibals. Two
followers met them as they ran down the path that they were forced to march up when they
were in chains. The two heretics were felled easily; left bleeding and holding their intestines
in.

Four strong swings broke the rock piles that kept them inside. They disappeared into the
cover of the foliage as shouts and screams were heard back at the clearing. Babylon kept
quiet, yet poised to defend themselves as they snuck past grouped heretics and camps. The
Crown-sword shortened into a simple, jagged dagger so they wouldn’t jostle the plants as
much.

Finally, their breathing began to even out a bit as they traversed the wood. They noted the
lovely red, triangular cut fleece on their shoulders. The same color as the Red Crown. They
also briefly took a look at the outfit they were wearing. The same red color, but long, ending
just above their ankles. And their neck felt snug with the simple collar around their throat.
Their breath had hitched when they felt it. When they heard the gentle tinkling of the attached
half-circle bell. Babylon pushed it down, however. They were nearing a clearing. One in the
midst of the quiet of Darkwood. Chirping nocturnal birds, fireflies, and tiny critters scurried
around a seemingly abandoned tent. It looked like it could only house one person. Perhaps I
can rest for the night there?

Emerging from the bushes, they cautiously glance around to make sure nothing will jump at
them. Once it was clear, they walked to the tent, wishing to lay down. The Red Crown
deforms from the dagger into a black blob and then forms wholly on their head. A gentle
buzz rang in their head just before dirt was kicked up beside them. Babylon jumped back,
summoning the Red Crown as a sword once more. A worm?!

A rat popped up from the burrow. He shook his head from the dirt and placed a paper, three-
pointed crown right between the ears. He looked old. His fur ruffled a bit and a peppering of
grey at his muzzle. A walking stick appeared next and he used it to haul himself up from the
hole. He dusted off his green vest and righted the red checkered scarf. He cleared his throat
and licked his jaws. Babylon slowly lowered the Crown-sword. The rat was taking his time in
cracking his bones and cleaning off the soil from his eyes — the left being scarred over. A
red triangle marking appeared on his forehead behind the dirt. A cult marking? Status?

‘Cult marking.’

That buzzing will take some getting used too…

Finally, the rat turned towards them and jovially smiled. “Fear not! I am Ratau. I was once
—”

“Oh! You are that old rat The One Who Waits told me about!”

Ratau paused for a moment before laughing a little awkwardly. “Heh, yes. I was a chosen
Vessel like you, but those days are lost to the winds. I was sent to Guide you. We are deep in
the Lands of the Old Faith and in grave danger. My instructions are to lead you to safety.
Continue through the woods. Escape lies ahead. I will be close by.”

“Wait! I can’t rest here?”

The rat halted in his attempt to burrow back into the earth. “I’m afraid not. You see, they got
your scent. It won’t be long until those hunters and worms and other creatures gather for a
chase and catch wind and follow it here.”

Shit, they forgot about that amidst the chaos of the past few hours. Days, really.

“Right… Okay. I’ll meet you later.”

The Ratau nods at them and burrows away. It seems all the grooming was for first
appearances.

Babylon takes a few deep breaths before following the advice they were given. The path
ahead was littered with enemies, from the bush bats to the chaser worms to followers of
Chaos; the God Leshy. They were hard battles, especially the ones that could take flight.
They always had trouble with them. Thankfully, it did not take that many hits to clear the
path of heretics.

And they are breathing through some pain from bites, scratches, and cuts as they crouch at
the edge of a clearing. Another sacrifice, they see. A terrified black a white cow was strapped
down to a stone slab, crying and wriggling in an attempt to get free. Beside them, Ratau’s
head popped up from the ground. Babylon startles, but chokes off their gasp of surprise. “We
have nearly reached safety, but look ahead! Another poor soul about to be sacrificed. Rescue
them and they would have no choice but to join your new cult."

The sheep cuts their eyes at the old rat beside them. His voice sounded awfully unhinged for
a second, and they worry that he has grown a bit mad in age.

‘Just slightly. My power can have an adverse effect on weaker minds.’

Babylon hopes that they can stay strong enough to not know those effects in the years to
come.
“Oh mighty Bishops of the Old Faith! We ask you to accept the sacrifice of the wretched soul
—”

“Hey! Who interrupts our Ritual and Trespasses on Sacred Ground?!”

Shit.

Ratau quickly burrows away as the followers spot them and run to begin a confrontation.
Babylon scoffs at the cowardice, but they suppose it’s only fair. He served his time as a
Vessel and is obviously too old to truly fight anything bigger than a squirrel-critter.

The sheep rises and meets the heretics sword-to-sword. It is a battle they must conduct
smartly. Three enemies, bigger than them in a broader, muscular sense. They dodge between
strikes of all three. They skirt around the group so they do not have a chance to become
flanked in. And once those followers collapse into their own blood puddles, smaller worms
erupt from the earth. They must have sensed all the activity through the soil. They were
easier to manage with their size. Effortless to avoid and slash when they jumped towards
them. The three worms laid in their own dark red blood, severed in uneven pieces like snake-
critters.

Finally, all is silent but the whimpering of the cow. They turn towards her and call off the
sword form of the Crown. It heeds them, and they take the time to recognize how seamlessly
they have been handling It.

Babylon smiles gently at her as they take slow, steady steps. They show their empty hands as
a sign of harmlessness to her. She calms down at this and holds still as they untie her from the
stone. Tears spill from her and she sobs her thanks to them as she throws herself at their neck.
Babylon is happy to reciprocate this hug and reassure her that everything will be okay. That
she is safe with them. She pulls back after a moment, wiping her tears and sniffling up snot.
“Where will we go? We’re in the middle of the woods… It is not safe here…”

‘Camp.’
The Red Crown provides for them to speak. Babylon repeats that simple word, wondering
themself what ‘camp’ is. As soon as the last syllable leaves their mouth, the cow rises a few
feet into the air and a portal of black and red sigils appears below her. She is sucked in
immediately. They gape as the portal closes behind her.

What the fuck?! What–where?!

‘Camp. She will appear as soon as we are at camp.’

The sheep laughs, short and borderline hysterical as they just accept this Crown’s word. This
Mysterious Artifact of Ancient History that seems to be Sentient enough to Talk to them and
Perform Actions all on Its own. They won’t question this yet. It’s dark and they are still in
Old Faith territory. Once they arrive at the safety of camp, then they will have time to unpack
whatever the hell they agreed with.

‘Proceed. We are nearly finished.’

Babylon walks down the path between the thickness of trees. The dirt turns to cobblestone as
they see an archway. At the center is a stone clearing guarded by tall walls and lit with
torches. A pentagram is at the center. Ratau was also waiting for them, and he brightened up
once he laid eyes on their disheveled self.

“We have reached safety. You have done well.”

“... thank you…” They whisper, feeling tiredness finally creep in.

“The Red Crown will allow you to use those Markings on the ground to Transport yourself
great distances. It will take you to a Temple that has fallen to ruin. There you will be able to
begin your new Cult. I will meet you there.”

Ratau burrows again, leaving Babylon alone. They look around the clearing and beyond the
path they came from. They are glad to be leaving. To abandon this horrid place full of dark
 memories. They hope this Ruin is away from the woods, away from all of the territories of
the Bishops. They bid the darkness farewell and good riddance.

Babylon takes a step inside the pentagram and is about to call for the Red Crown to take them
away, but a buzz fills their head before heeding their request. A sign that they are learning to
associate with Its communication method. However, it isn’t the undecipherable voiceless
speech of the Crown. It is the deep, silk rasp of Death.

Do not say goodbye yet. We will return soon enough to Dispose of Leshy and His
monsters. Instead, say Goodbye to the Past, for you are now Reborn. Your Past has
been Left at the altar you were forced to kneel on. Embrace the New Life I have Given
you, and do well to Make It one you will Remember Fondly. It would be a Waste of My
Gift not to.

Chapter End Notes

Word Count = 4217

As you can see, I love formatting. Hope it stays consistent, though. The capitalization of
certain words and phrases are to signify a bigger, deeper meaning/concept within this
world of mine
 Chapter 2
Chapter Summary

He could not help the purrs rumbling from His throat. Finally, the One He has Waited
for. A Curious little sheep with a Determined Spirit. He Eagerly Awaits their next
moves, but knows He must be Patient. Preparation is the backbone to Success.

Chapter Notes

A comment (you know who you are) pointed out the pov difference from the
summary/discription and the pov of the actual fic. I shall clarify.

All of the summaries are in TOWW's POV while the actual fic will be in Lamb's (or
more as I write). This is because I'm setting stuff up ;)

This one is dialogue heavy

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Bishop through crown

‘crown -speak’

Thoughts

“Regular speech”

“Lamb speech”

“God speech”

God thought

***

Black flame spit Babylon out after engulfing them. They shook their head to dispel some of
the weightless feeling lingering in their body. The flames dissipated when they got their
bearings. They were standing on what looked like an entrance of some kind. It was wide and
made of stone with some plants pushing determinedly through some of its cracks. It looked
old with the state of the overgrowth creeping up the barrier and the staircase. There were also
faint etchings within the stone, but it had been weathered away. They could not quite make
out what it was supposed to be.

The sheep stepped down from the entrance, observing the peacefulness that washed over
them. The tall trees were dense, serving as a shelter to wherever the Red Crown took them. It
looked to be a meadow, shielded from the outside world of the Old Faith territories. Tall
grasses and wildflowers and a sprinkling of pine trees were abundant. A thin veil of mist
leisurely rolled through the grasses and sparse trees. The deep indigo of the night sky has
turned into shades of pastel pinks and blues. It looked otherworldly; untouched despite the
obvious sign of a past community. Have they truly been fighting the whole night?

“Ah, there you are!”

Babylon tuned into the more immediate presence of Ratau. He stood beside a red chest with
art of the Red Crown at its face. The sheep smiled politely at him and went to stand beside
the rat. “What is this place?” Ratau puffed up his chest and gestured to the wild field before
them with his free hand. He looked proud and reminiscent. “ This is the hallowed ground
which I have previously ruled. Now, it is yours. This crumbling ruin is to be the site of your
new Cult.”

Babylon hummed curiously and really looked at the space. It was open, but covered by the
dense forestry that bordered it near the entrance portal stone. It stretched a good distance
before a lighter patch of trees bordered this particular clearing in. There were stone mounds
that they suspect were from previous buildings of Ratau’s time as a Vessel and trees that
dotted the space. But it would be manageable to clear out so there was a big enough space for
a campsite. And they were sure that once they garnered more followers, they could begin to
expand further than the light tree borders at the edges.

“Is this in the Lands of the Old Faith?” Babylon asked. Ratau shook his head. “Not at all. It
is actually outside of all the territories. It has been here for centuries. Settlements come and
go, but they almost never leave because of the threat of the Bishops.” The sheep made a
shocked sound. “Really? What kind of settlements were these?” This time, the rat looked a
little hesitant to share. “They were almost all from The One Who Wait’s Vessels.” Hopelessly
intrigued, they lean towards the short, old rat. “What happened to them? Why did they
leave?” Ratau scratched at the scar on his eye and cleared his throat. “Aah, they, uh… All of
the Vessels died. They never completed their end of the Deal. The mass they had collected up
until that point fell apart and they all left to rejoin a community that would provide better
stability for them. Or they died.”

“Hmm…” Babylon leaned back, a bit disappointed at the information. At least it was proven
to be relatively peaceful and safe from the Bishop’s reign. “Okay, well,” They looked out
across the land again, “What am I supposed to do now? There’s land and resources here, but
I do not have help…”

Ratau perked up again. “Well, we begin by Indoctrinating the poor soul you saved into the
Warm Embrace of your Cult!” He began to lead them over to a stone circle near the middle of
the territory. “Followers can gather lumber and stone for you through orders. It’ll be easier to
get them once you have more followers living here to help. But they aren’t unlimited here at
camp. You’ll have to go out into the Old Faith to get more resources to bring back.”

Babylon grimaced at this news, but knew Ratau was right.

As they approached the stone, the same black and red portal that sucked up the cow they
saved reopened and spit her out. She flopped onto the circle before the portal disappeared
again. They smiled kindly at her and bent down to her height. She recognized them almost
immediately and flinched back just a tad. “W-what happened?!”

Perhaps Babylon should have expected that she would be wary again after a strange portal
snatched her from the ground…

“You’re at the camp I mentioned. The Red Crown made a portal to take you here.”

The cow looked around and slowly nodded. “It does look safe…”

“It is. It’s outside the Lands of the Old Faith. There should not be any trouble looking or
coming to us.”

She relaxed, breathing deeper and nodding much more confidently. “Good. That’s good.”
“However, there is one catch to living here.” The little cow froze, a frown appearing. “Help
me collect resources so we are not left completely defenseless.”

“Oh, that’s it? Okay.” She got up to her feet and brushed off the little tunic and pants she
wore. “My name’s Hubre. It is nice to finally meet you, Lamb!” She held out her hand, and
Babylon shook it firmly. “I’m— wait, Lamb?” She nodded, face looking a little confused at
their confusion. “Yes… You are a lamb, aren’t you? The Last Lamb all of the Old Faith
speaks of?”

“I mean, I am the last, but I’m no longer—”

“Wow! I can’t believe I’ve been saved by the Last Lamb! It’s an honor! Is it true that you are
the one that will unleash the Doom of the Old Faith? Because if it’s so, then I fully support
you! My family has all been farmers, typical huh? But we were never well liked by our
neighbors. And my older siblings were gossiping about the Prophecy and how they do not
really care about what it could possibly mean to the Old Faith. Our neighbors overheard and
reported my family for heresy. Needless to say, we had to go on the run, but we had no idea
how to survive in the wild. We were caught pretty easily…”

Babylon could only blink as Hubre spiraled into her life’s story. They listened to her, though,
feeling a connection with her. “My family has been on the run all my life. I understand how
scary it must have been to continue on when a threat was just around the corner. I am sorry
for what happened to your family.”

The black and white cow smiled faintly at them, her energy dipping low by the time she had
revealed how she got caught in Darkwood. “... Thank you. And thank you for saving me.
Truly. I’ll try my hardest to help you in whatever your plan is.” She dipped her head
earnestly.

“Well, the plan right now is to collect wood so we can have a fire going by nightfall.”

Hubre took a deep breath and straightened her back. Her plump face looked determined.
“Consider it done! But, uh, I need an axe first.”
“Oh,” Ratau pulled out a small axe that was attached to his belt. “Here you are, young lady.”
He hands it to Hubre and she thanks him before she hurried away to the first sight of bark.

‘Hubre: Zealous, Coprophiliac, Materialistic.’

Babylon took a moment to acknowledge the new information about their first follower.

… Coproph—?

Ratau clapped their back, startlingly them out of their thoughts. “Well done! You’re a
natural!” The sheep made a weak noise of thanks. “By your hand, our Cult will grow
powerful! But your followers can not Live on Prayer alone, they must eat. To build a cooking
fire, you’ll need five logs and three stone slabs. I’ll help in gathering berries.”

Ratau walked off, lightly limping with his walking stick. Babylon decided to get started on
helping Hubre chop wood. The Red Crown formed into an axe as they positioned themself on
the other side of the small pine. They worked with only grunts of effort interrupting the
silence. It did not take long to uproot the tree, and now they have five logs. They turn to the
cow, “Go ahead and take this over to that big stone over there. I’ll do some mining and we’ll
put it together.”

Babylon then got started on cracking open the stones around the stump with the Crown-
pickaxe. Hauling it over to Hubre was surprisingly easy with a newfound strength. They’ve
always been strong, but it was like it was amplified by two. They suppose it is from the Power
of the Red Crown.

As the two worked on building the cooking fire, Hubre struck up a conversation. “So, the
short term is to build a shelter, right?” Babylon nodded in agreement as they chopped up
some of the logs down further. “Well, I was wondering what the long term was. I mean, I
know the goal is to see that the Old Faith is gone, but, how do we do that exactly? I mean,
we’re just two people!”
“Well,” Babylon began, thinking about how they are to word this. “The Bishops are Gods, so
we’ll have to gain a lot of Power in order to take Them All Down. It is easier said than done,
though.”

“And how are we supposed to gain that power? I’m not a Mystic or a Magic-user.”

“That actually does not matter. You see the Crown on my head?” Hubre paused in her work
of snapping off twigs and branches to look up into the Eye of the Red Crown. She nodded.
“This is the Red Crown. It belongs to The One Who Waits. The Heretic of the Prophecy.” Her
brown eyes blew wide in awe. “How did you get it if it belongs to The Heretic?”

“I met Him before my escape from Darkwood.” Technically not a lie, but they do not want to
touch on the fact that they actually fucking died yet. “We made a Deal that He would make
me His Vessel as long as I Pledged to Kill the Bishops of the Old Faith.”

“Oooh. And you agreed because…?”

Babylon chuckled cynically. “We have a common enemy in the Bishops. They killed my kind
and They Imprisoned Him for Centuries. Why wouldn’t I Agree?”

Hubre digested this information. “Yeah, I understand why. If I were you, I would Agree to
Kill the Bishops too. But what does this have to do with gaining Power?”

“All we need to do is to Pray to Him; The One Who Waits. He is the One that lended me the
Crown to do what He cannot. Destroy the Old Faith. In exchange for Justice to all that the
Bishops wronged, all we have to do is Live and Spread His Word to as many people who will
listen. Doesn’t that sound nice? Justice?”

“Yes. It sounds lovely. ”

The two finished the cooking fire in silence after that. The slabs were placed in a circle with
the logs in the middle and some of the thinner sticks serving as a suspension for a cooking
stick or a future pot. Ratau had joined them with two grass bowls. One was full of berries and
the other held water. “Here we go!” He set the bowls down on a spare slab. “Berries for the
cooking fire. The water is from the river just past that border of trees. It connects to a spring,
so it is clean. If you guys want to wash up while I cook, you can.”

“Yes, please.” They sighed. They had been trying their best to ignore the disgusting sweat,
dirt, blood, and whatever that black liquid they spit up was that coated their body and new
clothes.

Babylon and Hubre both stood up and made their way to where Ratau directed. It was just a
few yards past the lining of the trees that they spotted a peaceful looking river. The beds
sprouted gorgeous white flowers and a Weeping Willow tree loomed over the sides. Babylon
walked to the other side of the tree to give Hubre some privacy.

They began to strip down what felt like ten layers of fabric. First was their cloak and a red
and white tartan sash with tiny gold bells at the ends and then a white fabric belt. Next, they
removed a red sleeveless deel with a white hem. Under it was a skirt of the same pattern as
the sash and a white, billow-sleeved shirt that buttoned up the front with red and white cuffs.
And lastly, a simple black leather collar with a bronze half-circle bell and some kind of
circular cross charm. The clothing looked very familiar to them despite being splattered in
blood. Something they had seen in drawings and art that had been kept close in their flocks’
belongings. The one thing that they will never get rid of. But, they do not know how He
could have possibly known its Significance.

They removed their underwear and sank into the coolness of the river. They signed in relief
and began to scrub away at the dried substances that clung to their short wool. They should be
able to actually grow it out now. And I should probably wash the clothes too. It’s the only pair
I have.

As they bathed and washed their clothes, they began to think back to the events that lead up
to the last few days, starting at their childhood.

It was rough, of course. Their little flock had to be consistently vigilant. Constantly on the
run from danger until that danger took almost all of them out. They had been rescued by
people that learned to call family. From there, they learned just how cruel the world could be.
They decided that it was not an option to live like how they previously were; susceptible to
cultists that could maim without a second thought. They trained, and they learned from
experience until danger struck again and they were caught. Stripped from the clothes they
mended themselves and put into humiliating rags and heavy iron chains. The memories after
it are the most vivid. They have no doubts that they will never forget the feeling of being
made to kneel in a submission that they did not want to express. To have their neck severed
from their shoulders and to wake in a plane of ash-water, fog, and Death. Their awe and
slight fear upon meeting The One Who Waits; Actual Death Himself. Upon receiving the Gift
of a Lifetime — literally — and the Power to actually Enact Change. To Fix Wrongs done by
Their Wrongdoers. They Swear that they will Uphold their End of the Deal. They will not
Fail, for it would be Failing them, their family, and their kind.

Thankfully, most of the grime was able to leave the fabric, but now it was too wet to
comfortably wear. They frowned at their lack of thought and wished for them to be dry.

‘Why Wish when you can Do?’

The dripping of their clothes began to stop and it looked as if the fabric was soaking it up like
a sponge. It was bone dry in a matter of seconds. Babylon thanked the Red Crown for Its
Abilities before dressing.

“Are you decent?” Came the lively voice of Hubre.

“Yes. Let us go back and eat.”

Once they were back to sitting at the cooking fire, they took a bowl of mashed berries each
from Ratau. As they ate, Hubre and Ratau got to become familiar with each other. He
explained that he was a past Vessel of The One Who Waits and was serving as a Guiding
Hand for The Lamb, as he called them. The sheep ate silently, smiling as the two bounced off
of each other with their extroverted energy. They told stories of their childhood and some of
the mishaps they had gotten into. They had learned that Ratau had a brother named Ratoo,
but he had not heard from him since the last few days of his Vesselhood. Hubre had three
older siblings named Lia, Manny, and Fior. They got into a lot of mischief in the fields
sneaking some of the crops for themselves to eat later in the night.

After dinner, Ratau, Hubre, and Babylon set the bowls to the side of the cooking fire to be
used later. They had spent the whole day collecting resources from the trees and ruins around
the meadow. Now that it was getting dark, they decided it was about time to build something
that they could use to sleep. Hubre proposed to create sleeping bags from the surprisingly soft
grass of the meadow. Ratau and Babylon agreed unanimously and they all began to work on
their own sleeping bag.

“Lamb,” Ratau began, helping collect some of the sturdier weeds with Babylon. “I have a
cabin that I sleep at, so I will not be making a bed here. I just wanted to let you know that you
should start thinking about recruiting more followers and getting more gold so that we can
make a Prayer Shrine. Both tasks can be done when Crusading the Lands of the Old Faith.”

“Why didn’t you say that you had a cabin? Hubre and I could be staying there instead of out
in the open!”

“That’s because it is one person. It would be very cramped with all of us in there.”

Babylon does not exactly believe that, but they chose to overlook it. “Okay. Then, before you
go, I have some questions about The One Who Waits. He did not explain a lot when I was
there. Like why and how He is Chained to that Place. Why exactly He needs the Bishops
Dead to Break Free.”

Ratau adjusted his crouch into a full sit. He laid his walking stick beside him and patted the
empty space in front of him. Babylon joined him, eager to have some clarifying questions
answered.

“To begin with, I do not know everything about The One Who Waits.”

Perhaps I shouldn’t get my hopes up when speaking to Ratau.

“I know that He is the God of Death, and has been since the Beginning of the Old Faith. I am
not sure of His and the Bishop’s previous relationship. Any information on Him simply
marks His Teachings as Heresy to the Old Faith and the Great One’s Creations — and our
God is not an easy one to converse with. You will know this more if you die frequently—”
“Die frequently?”

“Yes, you will die. That is simply a Fact. Every Vessel has died more than once, that I know.
But, if you develop your skills swiftly, then you should not see our God’s Veil as often. You
see, one can only meet Him if you die under His Faith; under the Red Crown.”

“Why is that?”

Ratau opened his mouth, before pausing and thinking harder on the question. “Um, I’m
actually not sure. I did not ask a lot of questions to Him when I was a Vessel. I do not die
often. I preferred behind the scenes activity. I fostered a community more than I did fight and
kill. I was never the strongest, even in my youth—

Well, that explains why he burrows away during moments of intensity.

“And The One Who Waits was more often exasperated with me and my methods, so He’d
Resurrect me with little words between us. For all His Patience, His Temper can run short on
certain days. Best to be careful when you talk with Him then.”

“Of course. But did He not talk to you through the Crown?”

Ratau raised a brow and shook his head. “No. The Crown may be sentient, but It cannot
speak. It will only feed certain information to your thoughts. Like your resources, how many
followers you have, their particularly prominent traits, read minds — which you will be able
to do in time— and things like that. And I have certainly not heard the Chained One’s voice
through it.”

‘Weaker minds cannot handle the Greater Abilities I am Capable of.’

Babylon blinked and nodded even though they knew that what Ratau was saying was not
true. They have heard the voiceless Voice of the Red Crown ever since they were Gifted It.
“Now upon the topic of why our mutual Benefactor needs the Bishops Dead is because He
has been Trapped by the Four Bishops of the Old Faith. Each of Them Guards a Chain that
Binds Him to the Realm Beyond; The Afterlife, as us mortals know it as. The particular
reason behind His Imprisonment is something that I only know of in bits told to me by The
One Who Waits. There was something regarding one of His Rituals that the other Bishops did
not take kindly to. It is not much better than the information the Bishops tell Their cultists,
but it is something that came directly from Him, which must mean it is True.”

“Why did He share so little? Not that I am complaining about The One Who Waits. I’m just
curious.”

“Imprisonment takes a toll on the Mind, Lamb. Even Godly, Cursed Imprisonment. When He
was reminding me of my initial Task of Crusading He breached the topic as to why it was so
Important. He had begun to become unclear mere moments after He started to explain. I
cannot detail how He became unclear, just that I could not comprehend it. He got Angry
quickly and sent me away before it got too bad. I never dared to ask such a question again. It
is best that you make peace with the information you have now.”

Great One Above, how terrible. They did not even think of what kind of effects have begun to
plague The One Who Waits’ mind for the centuries He has been bound. They felt stir crazy
the single day that they spent in binds. But now their curiosity is stronger about the specifics
of Why He ended up like that in the first place. Maybe they could get answers if they breach
the topic carefully?

“Are there any other questions you want answered?”

“Oh, no. That is all. Thank you, Ratau. Good night.”

“Of course.” The old rat heaved himself up by the walking stick. A moment was spent
popping his ageing joints before he dipped his head to them. “May you have a good night as
well, Lamb. Good night, young Hubre!”

“Good night!”
 The rat began to hobble back to the entrance stone. They could see him stop in the middle
and wait for just a second before black flames engulfed him. After they dissipated, he no
longer stood there. Another question to ask their God. How can Ratau travel via the stone if
he no longer has the Red Crown?

The sheep put it away with the rest of their mental list of inquiries. It is about time they take a
much needed rest.

Chapter End Notes

Word count = 3885

 Chapter 3
Chapter Summary

The old rat was Serving Him well in doing the last Task that He had requested from
what He saw through His Crown. Despite His general irritation with Ratau when he was
a Vessel, He acknowledged how useful he could be in Cultivation.

Now, His Lamb was off on their First Crusade. He hopes they will have a Strong Step
Forward.

Chapter Notes

Will most likely have to do updates on the weekend, since I started a summer art class.
We have two days to finish a whole project, which I think is crazy. It's been leaving me
tired.
Anyways, enjoy the chap :D

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Bishop through crown

‘crown -speak’

Thoughts

“Regular speech”

“Lamb speech”

“God speech”

God thought

***

Babylon naturally awoke at dawn. They felt well-rested and free of any kind of soreness that
could have lingered from the past two strenuous days. They took the time to admire the
sunrise in peace. The sun’s golden rays broke through the last darkness of night and set the
meadow alight. Mourning doves cooed from the trees and pollinators flitted between the
wildflowers, trees, and Ruins. It’s a truly beautiful land.

The sheep glanced towards Hubre, who was still asleep in her sleeping bag made of durable
grasses. They’ll leave her to rest more as they gather more berries and water for breakfast.
Babylon went to the river first with the bowls they had saved from last night to gather berries
and water. The mist rolling off the surface looked particularly otherworldly. It reminded them
of the fog in the Afterlife.

Ratau seemed to have just arrived when they went back to Camp, given that he was hobbling
down the stairs. Ratau waved at them and they nodded back in greeting. Babylon started up
the cooking fire while the rat settled down next to them. “Ah, good morning, Lamb!”

“Good morning. Will you stay the rest of the day?”

“Yes. You need someone to keep an eye on things while you’re away!”

Oh, yes. They are supposed to go Crusading today. “How long does a usual Crusade take?”

“Mmm, about two days or so. Depends on how far out in the Old Faith you go. This first one
should be rather quick since it’s just for finding gold and recruits. Those of lesser Faith
particularly reside on the outskirts.”

Babylon was already aware, but they thanked Ratau for the advice. Once the berry mush was
made, they shook Hubre awake. The cow roused slowly and accepted the meal and water.

The sheep turned back to the rat. “Have you eaten already?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I have. Thank you.”

Babylon began to dig in themselves while kicking dirt on the fire. It was a silent meal as they
all took time to fully wake up.

“Hubre,” Babylon started, “I’m going to have to leave momentarily to get gold and
followers. Ratau will stay here and help you with harvesting the resources around Camp.”

Ratau made a noise of confusion before Hubre interrupted it. “Oh, okay. When are you
leaving?”

“Now.” They rose up and brushed off any debris that clung to their deel. “Best to get an early
start.” As Babylon began to trot off with a ‘goodbye,’ Ratau had raised his voice to get their
attention. “Um, actually, you will need some help getting into the Lands!”

The sheep paused mid-step and turned back to him. “Oh?”

“Yes, you see, We— as in the other Vessels — have Conjured Openings to Their Realms for
better Accessibility to individual Territories. They can be Unlocked with a Ritual that
requires certain amounts of followers.”

“Hmm. Which one can I open now?”

“Darkwood, I believe. Hubre, follow us to the Mecca, please.”

The rat and cow both joined Babylon in walking out of Camp and past the Entrance Portal.
Once they broke through the thick barrier of pines, a large clearing was laid out in front of
them. It was overgrown like the Ruins and a huge Statue of the Red Crown stood at the
center. It’s Eye lit Red with a Flame and leaking out the same black liquid that they had
hacked up during their Resurrection. Beyond it was what looked like four doors or gateways.
Each one was the color of the Bishop’s Crown with Its depiction painted on them.

Darkwood’s Door was covered in thick green shrubbery and bird-critters mindlessly pecked
at the grasses in front of it. There were Sigils etched into the wood and it glowed Yellow once
the group stepped fully into what Ratau called the Mecca.

“This is the Mecca. A Central Hub that has been laid to Waste alongside the Ruins we reside
in. Each Door of the Bishops can be Opened at the Red Crown’s Effigy. Hubre, Lamb.” The
rat motioned the two animals towards the Statue at the center.

As they stood before it, the Red Crown Buzzed in their head.

‘Tell her to Pray.’

“Hubre, I need you to Pray so I can unlock Darkwood.”

The cow nodded and bowed her head and closed her eyes. She hesitantly started a Prayer,
unsure of what Words to Say.

‘Now Repeat after Me.’

The Words in Babylon’s head was not Comprehensible to them, but they Said it Aloud
anyways. The Statue’s Eye Blazed a bright Yellow Fire into the sky after the last syllable and
Darkwood’s Door rose open to reveal darkness.

Hubre stopped Praying and gaped in awe. Ratau clapped his hands together and laughed,
delighted. “Wonderful! And on your first try too!”

Babylon bleated quietly, a feeling of embarrassment running through them.

“Now, Lamb,” Ratau turned and grabbed their shoulders. His chest puffed out and he had a
wide, crooked smile on his face with an excited and slightly wild look in his one eye.
“Remember: It is your Task to Track the Bishops down and Slay Them so that The One Who
Waits may be Freed. Now go! There you shall find gold and willing recruits. And for those
who are not willing, Convert them by Force!”
The old rat pushed them towards the door and shouted ‘Good luck!’ before turning back to
the Camp Entrance with Hubre. She waved at them as they disappeared into the canopy.

Well, off they go, then.

They entered the Door and all they could see was Darkness before Color emerged from their
peripheral. They exited from brush into a little area of stone. A tablet stood before them with
a depiction of the Green Crown. Babylon approached to read what was scrawled under it.

Entering the Lands of the Bishop Leshy. Those who do not Follow the Way of the Old
Faith will be Destroyed.

Cheery. They thought. The Red Crown then Buzzed in their head again.

‘Blasphemeous Words after all They have Done. Wield Me and Destroy it.’

Babylon happily agreed. They held out their hand and let the Crown mold into that of the
sword they had wielded during their escape the night before. The stone crumbled to dust with
three strong strikes. The Crown Buzzed Pleasantly, Satisfied, and they were Satisfied too.

Babylon decided to get on with the Crusade and ran off, following the dirt path. The enemies
were easier to kill, this time. Fear and Desperation was no longer making them jumpy like
their fast fight through Darkwood. However, as they entered an empty area, Leshy cultists
jumped out from trees in an ambush. Each had a dagger and jeered at them.

“How dare you trespass on our Grounds!” Hissed one of the left. A gruff bark came from the
other side. “You will pay, Lamb, for your Heresy!”

Three heretics jumped at the same time and Babylon dodged as quickly as they could towards
a little opening between heretics 4 and 5. The three that lunged collided with one another,
yelping in surprise. 5 reached over to them and they swung upwards. Their hand were sliced
off and they shouted in pain. 4, however, had thrusted their knife at Babylon’s side when they
had swung. A small gash formed, their skin protected by layers of fabric and wool, and Lamb
swung again in the opposite direction. The blade cut deeply through 5’s chest. They fell to
their knees with the force of their hit and Babylon jumped over them to escape from another
swing from 4.

The other three that collided had got their bearings back and were charging at them. Babylon
reached down to grab 5 by the hood of their robes and threw them at 4. They weren’t
expecting it and were bowled over by their limp body. They squirmed under the dead weight
and were screaming at Lamb. This gave the sheep the moment to focus on the other three
heretics.

2 stopped short while the others skirted around to try and flank them. Babylon refused to
allow them to corner them, so they lunged at 3, sword thrusting out at the heretic once they
were closer. 3 Reared back late and was impaled. Lamb kicked them off and dodged out of
the way of 2. Another two swings had the heretic laid out and whimpering. Lamb turned
towards 1, whose dagger was shaking in their two-handed grip. “B-but, you-you’re supposed
to b-be…”

“Docile?” Babylon asked, head tilting in mock curiosity. 1 whimpered again and Babylon
decided to free them of their terror with a sword through the throat. They choked on their
blood, hands instinctively clutching at the wound to try and cling to life.

Lamb watched passively, thinking about how many members of their little traveling family
they have seen die the same way. They did not deserve such a death, but these heretics,
enablers, did.

Babylon pulled themselves out of their thoughts and glanced around. There were three
different paths to take. One in the front and other to the right. However, the pathway the left
called to them; decorated by hanging gold ornaments of stars and moons and suns. They had
heard of rumours about a Mystic that could always be found by the same kind of decor. They
never encountered them, but perhaps they could now that they had stumbled upon their
Signs.

Babylon put their sword through 5 and 4’s chests on their way to walk underneath the
ornaments, they Felt the Air Shift around them. The Red Crown even Buzzed passively along
with it, tingling their mind. They entered an area full of celestial lightcatchers. A purple tent
with gold embroidery of constellations was set up on the far wall of stone. Stars were painted
in red on the wall and incense drifted into the air. It smelt of lavender, sandalwood, and
frankincense. Crystals were laid out on purple rugs and blankets and a crystal ball was off to
the side of the tent. Before them, was a huge, red feathered duck. Not quite God-sized, but
not mortal sized either. Cards were spread in front of them.

“Praise the Lamb, Conduit of Great Power, Promised Liberator of The One Who Waits
Below.” The Duck Spoke and the Air seemed to Shudder and Speak with Them. “... so the
Cards Showed Me, Once. Many Lifetimes Ago— or has that Yet to Be?”

Babylon did not know.

“I have Always Drawn your Cards, Lamb. And Yet, this is the First.” The Duck motioned to
the stacked Cards— hadn’t they been spread? — “Take these Cards, and I will Draw
Another Each Time We Meet. When Drawn by Me, They will Grant you Power.”

The sheep silently stooped down to turn two Cards over.

The Lovers I and The Hearts I.

They chose the first one.

“Your Deck Decides Your Fate.” The Duck hands them an Unopened Deck of Cards. The
Backs gleam Black and Red. “You may Find More upon your Crusades, and I will Draw
from Them. Look Upon It Now.”

Babylon Opened the Deck and Looked through Fifteen Cards. The Red Crown provided them
with Explanations of What Each One Did. The Arachnid sounded particularly pleasing to
them.

“All is as It Should Be, as It Ever Was, as It Always Will Be.”

A stray breeze went directly into their face and they squeezed their eyes shut. After a second,
it went just as fast as it came. They blinked open their eyes, and the entire decorated area was
gone. They looked around, confused. Babylon thought that they were just a Mystic, but
Mystics cannot disappear out of the blue like that.

‘They are not a mere Mortal Mystic. They are something Entirely Else. A Godly Keeper
of Tools.’

So They are a God?

‘No. A Keeper. Clauneck Exists on a Different Plane than Gods.’

Babylon is going to decide to not question it too deeply right now. They have tasks to
accomplish. The sheep left the clearing and noticed the Deck of Cards still in their hands.
They didn’t have any pockets or a bag to put any items in.

A Buzz and then the Red Crown appeared in front of them. The top of the Crown looked like
a Dark Mass of Nothingness. ‘I have Said before that I am a Tool. Put any items that you
cannot carry into My Storage. You will be able to Call them back to you once you are
ready to Use them.’ The Deck and items they stole so far was dropped into the Crown and
the Red color of It’s top came back. It floated back to their head and urged them to continue
on with their Crusade.

They cleared the top room and then the right without a fuss, collecting any gold or useful
items off of heretics and camps they came across. They had even found The Arachnid Card,
funnily enough.

Babylon came across some trees that looked easy and low enough to cut down. The other
trees of Darkwood were towering and dark and full of its Monsters. They did not think it
would be worth the effort to try and cut down the massive bulokes when they could be
making more progress and time through the Wood. Beyond that, were more enemies and
looting when they could. More often than not, they had left the Heretics and Monsters to die
from any fatal wounds they had given.
Just as they were slaying the upteenth bat they had come across, Ringing filled their ears. It
was Different from the Buzz of the Red Crown, but just as Piercing. Their vision blurred
slightly as a Red Haze creeped over. Their body seized up, as if grabbed violently by some
kind of Force, and was picked up off the ground. A puddle of Black welled up in the center of
the area and from it raised Chaos and His Green Crown. His leafy face was wrapped securely
in bandages dirted with Red and Black Liquid — Blood, both Godly and mortal. The
Branches protruding from His head twisted.

“How can this be?” He grumbled in confusion, head cocking to the left. The Green Crown’s
Eye Flickered rapidly over Babylon’s suspended form. It Looked as Bewildered as Its Bearer.
“You were put to the Blade, Lamb, as All your kind were!” Leshy’s voice pitched in His
Dismay. “And yet you stand before Me, Unrepentant!” The Crown’s Eye froze at the sight
of the Red Crown on their head, which was oddly silent. They had not realized that Its Buzz
was Ever-Present.

The Bishop rattled slowly in thought. “The Crown… his power… Could it be?”

He was quiet for a moment and the ringing blessedly died down as well until it was back
once again, banging around in their skull at a Proclamation. “But I am Stronger, Still!”

Chaos’s voice lowered again, this time demeaning. The Green Crown’s Eye Glared deeply
into their hazed eyes. “Turn tail and Run, little Lamb.”

Chaos returned from where He Came. Babylon was released from His Hold and dropped onto
the forest floor. They coughed and curled into themselves. Their heart beat furiously against
their chest and they tried to heave in the air around them. It tasted like the Earth; rich soil and
dew with the fierce kick of spices. They felt the Red Crown’s Buzz return immediately and
their eyes watered. They blinked rapidly and tried to anchor on to something. This was now a
way too familiar feeling .

Breath, My Lamb.

A chilling presence came over their mind with the voice of Soothing Warmth. Compelled,
Babylon managed to shakily inhale, then exhale.
If you give Words Meaning, then They will have Meaning. Discard whatever drivel was
said to you. It is not Important.

Babylon focused on the voice of Death. It took them a few moments to properly put whatever
panic that had racked through them to the side. They breathed a little easier, rubbing at the
cloth of their deel. It was so soft and comforting. It felt like wool. Even smelt like it despite
the blood that stained it. It brought them memories of their parents and their flock. Bright
even through the darkness that cloaked it.

There We are. Back, My Vessel?

Y-yes… I apologize for my reaction.

It is Natural for mortals when in the Hold of a God. Now, What did He Say?

To run.

Will you?

No!

A pleased purr rattled their mind gently. Perfect. Do not let any of the Heretics’ Words
have a Hold Over You. They are Foul and Conniving , but you are Stronger than that,
aren’t you?

Yes. The Bishops have never done anything good for me or others. I Owe Them Nothing. I’m
not sure why I panicked like that.
Mortals have an Innate Fear of Death, and you are Closer to Me when in the Throes of
Peril. However, as Death’s Vessel, you shall Know No Fear of Me. Turn it into the
Motivation needed to Succeed. Go. Now!

The One Who Waits’s voice echoed faintly after His Chill had left them. They took a few
more deep breaths before standing and shaking themselves off of any residual energy of their
weakness.

The next room was full of heretics.

They took their spare seconds of prep time to find that Anger that had driven them for so
long. That sustained them before their Execution. Once they found It, they held onto It, and
wrecked havoc; slicing and cutting and puncturing the bodies that Followed the Bishops of
the Old Faith. When they were done, the grasses were slick with blood. Groans of pain were
barely audible and the heretics twitched on the floor.

Lamb noticed a pathway made of stone instead of dirt. Quickly, they searched the bodies and
put away daggers, food, and gold into the Crown’s Storage. As they walked down the stone
pathway, they realized it was to some kind of stronghold or tabernacle. Stone walls that
encased the area held candles and Black and Gold flags bearing the Emblems of The Old
Faith. In the middle was a Magic Circle and a Follower wearing Black and Gold robes and a
Green surplice and stole with the Cross of The Old Faith. A Reverend of Leshy.

Babylon’s vision turned Hazy Red again and Chaos rose up from the puddle of Black. His
mocking voice rattled like a gush of wind through leaves. “You have come far enough, little
Lamb. My followers are Willing to Do Anything for Me. Can you Say the Same of
yours?”

The Reverend Spoke, voice eager. “I Give Myself to the Cause, oh Mighty Leader!”

“By the Blood of Chaos, Destroy the Red Crown!”

Leshy disappeared into the Black, leaving the Reverend to groan and fall to his knees. The
sigils of the Circle glowed and the Reverend yelped as his body twisted into something
monstrous. Babylon heard the bones break and flesh rip, red blood gushing onto the circle.
He was screaming now as the Magic took hold of his fluids and made it into fleshy additions
of his body. The Reverend’s body was bigger by the time the Ritual was Complete. Wooden
horns protruded from his temples and his limbs seemed to have been absorbed into his new
Monstrous body. Welts with mouths like leeches opened and screeched, spitting out green
poison. His eyes were Black except for the Red Cross pupils. Ichor fell from his fanged
mouth and stained the ground. He roared a challenge to Babylon and began his assault.

The sheep quickly ran around him, willing their mind to catch up to the situation at hand.
They had not expected to face anyone higher than a follower or a Demon Creature of
Darkwood. They’ll have to conduct this battle carefully instead of brute forcing it like they
were previously.

They carefully observed the Reverend, noticing how he would have to stop to spit poison as
he popped out little eggs that hatched the lower Demon Worms that they had been killing.
With a strategy forming, they went in when he stopped again. They rolled to quickly cover
more ground to his back and avoid the poison and eggs. They made as many hits as they
could and ran away before the Reverend could twist and lunge at them. In the meantime, they
killed the Creatures that hatched. Lamb kept this up until they delivered the final slice down
the length of the Reverend's back.

The Ritual Magic that had turned the Reverend seemed to reverse. The bigger Demon body
split and within the internal carnage was a small, mortal body that was covered in blackish
red blood. He crawled from the guts and dropped onto the stone. He breathed shakily and
flinched when they saw Babylon with the Crown-sword. He backed up, but was stopped by
the quickly rotting mass of flesh and leaves and wood behind him. Tears of fear rolled down
his face as he cowered. “Pl-please… mercy…”

Babylon was tempted to just run their sword through him, but had frozen. He seemed scared,
terrified. His expression was one that they had seen on many others that they had cared for.
But he had followed Leshy’s orders. Had tried to kill them. “Why should I spare you? You
have not done so for my family or for others when they had begged.”

“Chaos will Kill me for Failing! I cannot Face His Wrath! Nor the other Bishops!”

They considered this. Many innocents, and cultists, have been sacrificed or straight up
murdered for slighting the Bishops. They’ve seen it first hand. And been through it. And
despite all of their rage towards anything having to do with The Old Faith, they would not
wish such a feeling on anyone. Especially someone who was as frightened as this. But on the
other hand, he had participated in the Genocide, as did all of them…

‘That is Why Religious Leaders Convert. Indoctrinate this Reverend into your Cult,
and he will turn his Old Ways Aside.’

Babylon blinked. Oh yeah, that was an option. And I do need more followers…

The sheep called back the Red Crown, leaving their hand empty. The Reverend seemed to
perk up at this, his shakes lessening now that his Life was not on the line.

“I will spare you—”

“Oh, Thank You!”

“ — But , you will cast away whatever teachings you have from The Old Faith and Follow
Me.”

The Reverend paused for a moment, but ultimately agreed. “Yes! I will follow you faithfully,
just please, spare me!”

Wow. So much for the Loyalty Leshy spoke of.

Babylon allowed the Red Crown to Portal their new follower to the Camp. With all the
threats out of the way, they exited the tabernacle through an archway to the left. Inside was a
Travel Portal with a red wood door. The Green Crown was painted upon it and symbols in the
shape of a chain circled it. A fourth of it was Lit in White.

‘A Progress marker from the Fourth Vessel. You will have to Defeat two more Servants
of the Bishop Leshy to get to Him.’
Is this the same with all the Others?

‘Yes.’

Babylon nodded, determined now that they have one significant kill under their sash. They
stepped onto the Pentagram and Portaled back to Camp by the way of Black Flame.

Upon their arrival, they were met with Ratau beckoning to them in the center. They ran over
and greeted him.

“Ah, I thought you would have been out for longer. Only a day's worth of travel, and some
sunlight left to spare. I’m relieved to see you made it safely, and not alone, I noticed.”

They both turned to look at what Babylon is now calling the Indoctrination Stone. The ex-
reverend was spit up from Blackness and plopped onto the ground.

“You have convinced more to Join our Flock!” Babylon eyed Ratau from the side. “Let us
Indoctrinate this new Convert so that we may continue.”

The sheep walked over to the bush worm. He looked up frightfully, eyes wide. “I will follow
your teaching faithfully, Lamb! Just spare me!”

They suppressed a grimace at his plea. “I already did. You may call me Lamb, since Everyone
seems to Call me that… Now, your name?”

“Amdusias, at your service.”

“Welcome to your new home, Amdusias. Over there is Hubre.” He turned to look at where
they pointed out the black and white cow that was chopping wood. “Like her, I need you to
harvest the resources around the Camp. Please mine the stone.”

The bush worm seemed slightly shocked before nodding. “Yes, Lamb.” He stood and
followed what he was tasked to do.

‘Amdusias: Terrified of Death, Strong Constitution, Cynical.’

Cynical… They’d have to watch out for that.

Ratau once again startled them out of their thoughts with a clap to their shoulder. “Seems you
sent him to Work, however Worship is a Vital part in Growing a Successful Cult.
Worshipping followers Generates Devotion for you to Collect. It is the Substance that all
Gods, and Vessels by Extension, need to keep being Gods. However, in order to Collect
Devotion, we need a Shrine. It should be simple enough to erect one with the wood and stone
we have gathered.”

The work to build the Shrine was long and hard. The only break was when it turned to
nightfall and had to sleep. However, early the next morning, it was complete.

The Shrine was crude, but looked decent enough. It was made of pine wood, stone, and some
sturdy weeds. It was supposed to be an Effigy of The One Who Waits and the Red Crown
with the arms out in a Welcoming gesture, but it ended up looking more like them from when
they were still a lamb. Most likely because Hubre and Amdusias didn’t know what The One
Who Waits looked like…

They were dismayed at this for a bit before Ratau clapped his hands together. “Praise Be!
Now your followers can Worship you! I found a straggler wandering by my cabin last night,
so naturally I gift you a new follower. Assign them to Worship here at the Shrine. Collecting
the Devotion will allow you to Unlock Divine Inspiration from the Higher Power that we
Serve. Now, I’ll leave you to it.”

The rat dove underground before Babylon could get a word in. They sighed and turned
around to the new follower. They controlled their face, knowing that looking stressed and
peeved would deter any potential trust or connection with them. They were a young skunk
 with light pink fur. She had been from a wanderer family and was wishing to settle down on
her own somewhere that was not in the total reach of the Bishops. They assured her that this
Camp was outside of it and was under a completely separate Faith. She was happy to accept
the terms to Worship Death in order to stay.

‘Joojul: Coprophiliac, Gullible.’ The Red Crown fed to Babylon as they stood at the front
of the Shrine. They felt a type of Warmth call out to them. They reached out to it and a White
Wisp of Devotion shot into the Red Crown.

The thought of building a Temple entered their mind.

Chapter End Notes

Word count = 4562

Guys, I am physic, I swear. I mentioned The Arachnid card cause it's my favorite in the
fic before progressing in my new save and got it in the next room over. And then I
totally predicted Amdusias's 'terrified of death' trait before I fully indoctrinated him.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Summary

This Vessel is shaping up to be Much Better than their Predecessors. Although their
weapons-work was a bit sloppy, they had Conviction behind it. They Proved as much
after their Moment of Panic Within the Grasp of Leshy. Now, all they need to do is
Begin Spreading His Word.

Chapter Notes

yeah, weekend was full of finishing my projects x_x

Here's the semi-late chap. Forgive me if the pacing and stuff is a bit weird :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Bishop through crown

‘crown -speak’

Thoughts

“Regular speech”

“Lamb speech”

“God speech”

God thought

***

The Temple took a few days of countless work to finish. It was tiny. It looked more like one
of those steeple churches in the outskirt towns in The Lands of the Old Faith, just without the
steeple. The dark wood roof was slanted from the ground and jointed at the top. There were
some small branches and leaves sticking out, but Babylon thought it looked rather tasteful.
The wood that made up the front and back walls were painted a blood red from mashing up
the berries with small rocks. The door was wide and circular framed by dark wood and twigs.
Upon it, the Eye of the Red Crown was painted in white. Beside the Temple was a big mount
for the gold bell that Ratau had bought for them. It was small, but it would do for their three
followers.

“The Temple is the centre of your Cult.” Ratau spoke from beside them, “From There you
will Preach Sermons to Grow Stronger and Perform Rituals to Mold the fragile Minds of
your followers. You are Responsible for Maintaining the Faith of your Cult. If it falls too
Low, your followers will Dissent Against you and eventually leave. For the past few days,
your followers are ready to Hear your Word. Show them that you are their Great Leader.
Preach a Sermon from within your Temple.”

Babylon swallowed thickly. “I have never preached or done something similar in my life…”

Ratau smiled reassuringly at them and patted their shoulder. “Neither did I until I was Chosen
as a Vessel. The Red Crown is the Doctrine Book, so if you do not Know What to Say, Speak
from It.”

“... Got it.”

Babylon stalled briefly before Ratau had chuckled and gave them a push towards the door.
“Do not worry! You won’t be any worse than your first Sermon!” Babylon halfheartedly
laughed with him. “Now go, I will call them to the Temple.”

The inside was dark; the only light sources being from the little triangular stained glass
window of the Red Crown (also commissioned by Ratau) and the few candlesticks along the
walls. There were three rows of pews on either side of the building. Beyond it was an open
floor for the stained Ritual Circle, Altar, and Podium.

Babylon took their position behind the Podium and Called for the Red Crown’s Doctrine
Book. The first page held information about the Cult currently. This will be incredibly useful
in the long run. They flipped to the next page and it was blank. Seriously, they need to stop
relying on Ratau for good advice. They’ll just end up constantly disappointed…
‘He did not Lie. However, the Words that Appear Relate to the Commandments you
will soon Choose.’

Babylon nodded in acknowledgement and heard the Temple Bell Ring. Soon Hubre,
Amdusias, and Joojul walked in, talking quietly amongst themselves. Amdusias in particular
seemed to be encouraging them to be quiet the whole time.

Ratau hobbled in soon after them and joined the others at the front. They didn’t even bother
with sitting at the pews.

Babylon smiled at all of them with false confidence. I’ve survived for a long time in the Old
Faith. Saying a few Words of Doctrine shouldn’t be too hard. Nevermind that they’re heart is
beating from nerves.

“Ahem, Good Morning, everyone!”

“Good morning!” Ratau and Amdusias called back, though Amdusias’ voice was clearer.

“Heh, um,” Babylon blanked momentarily. They have no idea what to say! They have never
done this before! Did they really have to start their Priest Journey in front of four strangers?

A Chill, and then, Speak of your Purpose, Lamb. Always Start with What you Know.

Make that in front of their Patron God too… Great One Above…

“You all have probably heard of me, even before we all officially met.”

They began, speaking slowly and unsure. They looked at the four animals staring at them and
they all seemed to be in agreement with their statement.
“I was most likely referred to as The Lamb, or the Last Lamb, by The Old Faith. And I would
like to say that it is true. I was— am — the Last of the Sheepfolk.”

Babylon began to feel more confident as they stated facts. The One Who Waits was Right.
Start with What you Know.

“My family and their forebearers were hunted and killed by the Bishops of The Old Faith for
the sake of a Prophecy. That a Lamb will Free a Chained God, The Heretic, The Bound One,
whatever you may Know Him as, and Bring about the Destruction of The Old Faith.

“For a long time, I thought the Prophecy was merely an Excuse for the Bishops to Terrorize
those Weaker than Them. To Kill who They Thought were Nuisances or Threats to Their
Teachings; Innocents just trying to Survive under Their Rule. I was Proven Wrong about the
Prophecy Once I was Executed. I learned that It All was True. That The Heretic, The Chained
One, is Real and Seeks the Dismantlement of The Old Faith. However, I Ask you all, do you
Know Why He Wants It?”

Silence greeted them. Wary glances were passed between their three followers. They had
been hanging on to every Word and now their Curiosity was piqued.

“It is because the Bishops have Imprisoned — Betrayed — Him over a Ritual that They
Cared Not for, Each Guarding a Chain that Imbounds our God. Another example of the
Bishop’s Greed for Superiority.”

The followers were grumbling lowly at this.

“When I Met The One Who Waits, He Offered Me a Deal. Become His Vessel and Avenge
Him and those I Called My Family, and He will Give Me Life Again.”

A great gasp escaped from Amdusias. He looked rather appalled. “But, How?! Death is
Death! You Cannot Come Back from That!”
“Usually you would Not. However, When Dealing with Death Himself, It is Nothing.”

The horned worm looked even more pale despite being covered in leaves. Joojul looked
awed, however, eyes practically gleaming at the thought of their Interaction. “The Heretic is
Death?!”

“Yes. And with His Gift of the Red Crown, I am to be His Will Here on the Land of the Living.
I am to Slay the Bishops of The Old Faith, Breaking His Chains, while Rebuilding His Cult
from the Ground Up. Not only to Enact Vengeance for Him, but All those Who Fell Victim to
the Cruel Whims of the Bishops.”

Pleased mumbles rose from all four animals gathered before the Altar.

“Any questions?” Quiet. “Wonderful! Remember, the Cult Depends on your Support in The
One Who Waits’ Cause. Be sure to Work and Worship Diligently so that We May Grow to
Surpass The Old Faith. That’s all for today’s Sermon.”

The three followers began to chatter happily as they left the Temple. They looked determined
and secure in their choice to join their Cult.

Ratau was the only one who stayed and he clapped lightly. “Amazing! I’m not sure why you
were so worried before; you’re a Natural Leader!”

“Heh, thank you. I’m surprised it went so well. The more I Told them My Truth, the more I
began to Feel Sure in Myself.”

“You must have been Chosen for It. Now, on the business side of things,” Ratau cleared his
throat. “If you are to Guide your Cult you will need to Declare Doctrines so that they might
Obey you. Return to the Lands of the Old Faith and Seek out Commandment Stone
Fragments. With These you will be Able to Declare New Doctrines. I’ll keep an eye on things
as you do so.”
Babylon nodded and walked him out of the Temple, blowing out candles on the way. They
closed the doors and took a deep breath, relieved. They sent a ‘thank you’ to The One Who
Waits for His Advice. It had really helped . A Chill ran down their spine before leaving them.
They guess that that was Him acknowledging them. However, they were now wondering what
that moment was when they were Preaching. It was like their voice and throat vibrated when
they spoke of His Imprisonment. Their head had felt like it throbbed at the suddenness of it.

‘The Crown Bearer’s Voice can be Channeled Through you, if It is Powerful enough.’

Is it like Possession? They had heard of failed ones where a Bishop tried to take complete
control over a follower’s body before. They were usually Leshy and Heket Cultists. Shamura
was the One that could Effortlessly take over a body at Whim.

‘Not quite. Possession is Total Control. Channeling is letting the Bearer’s Thoughts,
Words, and Feelings Flow Through you. Mystics can do this as well, though on a
smaller scale than you, Vessel. You are a Direct Pathway. Mystics must Forge or Find a
Path to a Source. They might not even get the Source they wanted to Contact at all. It is
much more… Flimsy.’

I see… Thank you.

The Crown Buzzed pleasantly before falling silent. Babylon shook their head and reeled back
into Reality. They have to go on a Crusade again. It’s been tireless efforts on all fronts: the
Cult, collecting resources, getting to know everyone and making sure they got along as well,
and fighting the Forces of The Old Faith. While they should be exhausted, they had observed
that they could no longer get tired. Or not as much as they used to, since they went three
whole days working before feeling the dredges of fatigue. Even though they felt nothing right
now, they decided to get some water to fill up the flask they had stolen on their last Mission
from the river. Their task: Find Fragments of Commandment Stones. Should be simple.

But before leaving, Babylon decided to check on everyone. They were all hard at work;
getting wood, stone, and praying with a fervor. It seemed the Sermon had fueled them up
after the last few taskful days. They saw where they had all put their sleeping bags around the
cooking fire. Still intact, thankfully. They were pretty unstable and could tear apart rather
easily, being made of grasses and weeds as they were.
Babylon left the Cult grounds after saying goodbye to them. They didn’t want to worry them
from disappearing from the Camp. As they passed the Red Crown Statue, they noticed an
inscription upon the base of the stone. They walked over and crouched down low. It was a bit
hard to make out from the thick Ichor flowing from the Eye.

Here Godly Blood was Spilled.

Here did Death no Longer Wish to Wait.

Omminous… Yet Intriguing all the same.

They left the mysterious inscription and headed into Darkwood.

The Red Crown shifted into an Axe this time, stating a need to be Versatile in all Weapons as
Death’s Vessel. It was heavy, but efficient in taking out enemies. They could kill multiple
Demonic Creatures with a single swing. However, they had nearly taken Ratau’s head off
when he popped up from the ground. The Crown had sensed their alarm once they realized
who was in front of them and melted into Its rightful Form atop their head. The old rat looked
just as startled and had shrunk down into the burrow when he saw the blade coming at him.
“Just me! Sorry to startle, hah. Perhaps I should stop doing that…”

“You should, I nearly killed you! And it’s nightfall! I might not have realized it was you until
your head started rolling away with all this darkness.”

“Ah, well, anyways, I am glad I found you!” The rat fully crawled out of the burrow,
brushing past Babylon’s rather morbid comment without a second thought. They were
starting to see the effects the Red Crown had on him more clearly. Who reacts like that?

“I bring good news! The One Who Waits is Pleased with your Progress and Wishes to Grant
you a Crown Ability.”
“Oh? How do you know? I thought you had to Die in order to Talk with Him. Are you a
Mystic?”

“Me? Oh, not at all. I was far from it when I was a youngster. When The One Who Waits
Relinquished me from Vesselhood, He Allowed me to Keep some Magic as a Reward for my
Service. He can Channel Through me Clearly now, though. Anyways, are you Ready to
Receive?"

“Will it hurt?”

“Momentarily.”

Ratau then began to chant and the wind kicked up with Power. Black Wisps of Magic
manifested and shot straight into Babylon. Their vision went Hazy Red again as their eyes
watered and Leaked. Their head felt Hot, close to Searing into their scalp as they Absorbed
whatever Magic Ratau was Tasked to Give them. Seconds later, it passed down their spine as
a Chill and left them completely.

‘The Bearer Granted you Access to Curses. My more Deadly Form of Mortal Magic. Do
as you have when Calling to My Weapon Forms and aim the Flaming Shot.’

They did as they were told, Calling to the new Hotness settled in the Red Crown as they held
out their hand towards one of the Demon Worm bodies mounted on wooden planks. Red and
White tinged Flame shot through their arm and out their open palm. They recoiled from the
force and watched as the suspended body caught fire immediately and melted the leaves and
flesh off the skeleton. It pitifully clattered onto the forest floor. They gaped at the damage.

‘Again.’

They Performed the Flaming Shot a few times, leaving behind a small graveyard of Demon
Worm skeletons. Ratau spoke up in between their fires, flinching slightly at each shot.
“Enemies you Slay will now drop Fervour. Collect It to Replenish your Curses.”
Before Babylon could ask the rat what exactly Fervour was, he had burrowed away.
Thankfully the Crown had the answer. It seemed to know everything.

‘Fervour is the Magic Essence Inside all Living Creatures. It is usually a small amount,
but Mystics are particularly Potent.’

Because they are more Connected to Magic as a Whole and are Able to Use It?

‘Exactly. You are a Clever Vessel.’

Why thank You.

Babylon continued on with their new Ability at the ready. They wanted to see what It did to
live enemies instead of dead ones.

While the Curse was effective in roasting enemies alive — partially terrifying for them to
witness heretics writhing and screaming in agony as their faces melted off their skulls — they
were disappointed to learn that their Crown-axe could not oneshot kill the Fire Worms. They
had nearly gotten their deel caught on fire!

It turned day as they entered an empty clearing. They know that heretics awaited in the
bushes and trees to ambush them. But before they could, their ears and head Rang as their
eyes turned that Hazy Red that they are starting to hate more and more. Their body was
Seized Up again in the Grip of a God — Leshy. He looked particularly peeved despite his
face being fully covered in Bloody bandages and foliage. The Green Crown seemed to do all
the Emotion Portraying for Him.

“So you foolishly Persist, little Lamb.” Leshy bends over them, hands thudding against the
ground. They can Feel how close He had gotten to them. Practically right on top. Their heart
pounds in spite of their wants. “ I Hear your Lies and I Smell your Fear.” Just to make the
statement even more True, He sniffed about an inch around their head. The thought of his
mouth parting to showcase His teeth this close to them made their heart skip. “The Red
Crown Rises again… but what an Unworthy Bearer It has.” Unceremoniously, the Bishop
dropped them from the half a dozen feet they were off the ground and melted into Black.
Babylon sucked in air desperately and violently pushed whatever the Worm had said out of
their Mind. Insignificant. It was all just Talk. They weren’t lying — that they knew — and they
weren’t scared. They can’t be scared. Not when a dozen enemies were Conjured up from the
same Black Goop that Leshy Comes and Goes in.

The battle was gruesome. They were faced with bigger enemies than they usually
encountered throughout their Crusades. They rolled out of the way of Jumper Worms and
Archer arrows that had flamed tips. It was troublesome trying to land hits on the Demon
Worms while avoiding its landings. They had decided to take out the Archers first, as they
had range. Their Flaming Shot was used until they ran out of Fervour. By the end of the
onslaught, blood and guts were splattered all over them and the clearing while corpses lay
mutilated in various positions. Ugh. They’re going to have to scrub hard to get all this grime
off of them. They’ll also have to take a look at some of those deeper wounds.

Unworthy? Hah! They have done well to Decimate Leshy’s Pathetic peons. And with an
easy Brutalness I have not Seen in decades. I Will Build this Skill Into One of a Reaper of
My Standard!

The One Who Waits purred into their head. The Message passed Through them with a Chill
of excitement. What a strange Sensation… Was that a passive Channel? It didn’t seem
intentional…

The sheep continued on, passing by Clauneck to receive Fervour’s Harvest. ‘Enemies will
drop two times more Fervour.’

“The Worm, It is Hungry. It Feeds. It Partakes of our Flesh. But that is the Price for Safety.
For that we Gladly Give It All we Have.”

It seems Babylon stumbled upon a Sacrifice for Leshy. They ran in and bravely rescued the
handsome, grey Scottish Terrier; according to that very same dog. They merely brushed off
his words, just a bit uncomfortable at his zealousness, and sent him off to the Indoctrination
Stone. They’ll get his name upon arriving back at Camp.
Babylon came across a huge statue of Leshy that bleed dark red of animal sacrifice from the
upside down triangle of the head bandage. ‘You can Steal the Devotion of other Gods by
Redirecting It to you. Just Focus On the Feeling of It.’ They did as they were Told. It took
a good half a minute of staring into the red to Feel how His Devotion Flowed Through the
Statue. It was similar to how their own Devotion felt, but it took a bit more Effort to Grasp
and Coax Towards them. Once every last Drop was Absorbed into the Red Crown they
summoned the Crown-Axe and started hacking at the stone. They didn’t stop until it laid in a
pile of rubble. It should Serve well as a Sign that they Intend to Keep Going until the Bishop
Leshy was Destroyed as well.

A few more rooms of countless fighting and nightfall came once again as they prepped their
Upgraded Flaming Shot. It should be able to explode upon contact with an enemy now, as
supplied by the Crown. As they were taking the pathway, they spotted a bird— owl. They
were massive, God-sized actually. They even Wore a Crown, though where an Eye usually
was was crossed out. They noticed them and began to Speak. Their Aura Felt Completely
Different from the Bishops. In fact, It was a bit Closer to The One Who Waits, but altogether
Other.

“Eons Agone, these Lands were Rife with Gods and Their Adherents. What Befell this
Pantheon? Alas. ‘Tis the Nature of Beasts to Forget, and of Gods to be Forgotten.
Mayhap They Left. Mayhap They Slept. Mayhap They Devoured and Were Devoured
in Turn. Those Few Who Remained Spread Roots, Spun Webs, Molded this World to
Meet Them and Theirs. ‘Twere a Land of Many Gods, Once. Hundreds. Now…”

The Owl flew off, Leaving Behind three Fragments of a Commandment Stone; the Goal of
this Crusade. They made a mental Note of What They Said to them for seemingly No Reason
as they collected the Fragments to make a Whole.

‘Haro, an Old Goddess During a Time.’

Is She No Longer a Goddess? I’ve Never Heard of Her.

‘She has Not been a Goddess in Centuries. Her Cult Died Out Just as Long Ago.
Though It is Strange She Spoke to You… Hmm.’
The Red Crown went silent except for a faint Buzz. Babylon was slightly worried about What
that could Mean. Would She pose a Threat to Their Mission? They Hoped Not. If She was an
Old Goddess, then they surely had No Chance Against Her… No matter, they just have to
focus on moving on and getting back to the Cult.

They looked up from their thoughts and realized that they were at another Tabernacle of
Leshy’s. Babylon mentally prepared for another gruelling fight and took the time to bandage
what wounds hadn’t healed in a shocking amount of time. They walked in on guard and with
their head held high. They had expected to see another Reverend maybe, but a Monster was
already waiting for them, roaring and bristling the branches that stuck out of their Fall red
and orange leaves.

They leapt at them, crossing the whole space from the Ritual Circle. They bleated and rolled
out of the way. The stone cracked slightly from their weight. They gulped and rolled away
from another jump towards them. The Demon paused to conjure a ring of fire around them
and send it out to Babylon. They slid under it, barely able to keep the fire from singing their
nose. It was moments like this where they were thankful that their Flock had made sure their
wool was always shorn short. They swung their Axe down on them and the Demon leapt
upward right after like it merely broke off a few dead branches.

This is going to be more difficult than I thought! Babylon thought as they ran from the
Monstrous Jumping Worm. They were only able to make a hit once they paused to conjure
their Fire Magic. They got a bit daring sometimes, costing them getting fireballs right into
their torso, or at their legs when they were too slow to run away from the spray attack. They
were hurting and burnt and bruised from a few close calls of the Demon landing almost on
top of them when they dealt the final blow with their Axe. Whispers barely filtered into their
head as the huge Demon body ripped open and deposited a mortal worm to the floor with its
intestines and black-red blood. Tired and shaking in pain, Babylon sent them away with the
Crown without hearing a word from their mouth. They raided the Tabernacle of logs and
gold, putting them in Storage, then limped into the Progress Room to watch as another Fourth
of the Chain Sigils lit up and filled with red blood. Huh, they missed that the first time. Guess
the glow distracted them.

Babylon stepped in the Transportation Circle and was Flamed back to the Cult. They did not
bother with anyone as they left the Circle. The sun was rising above the soft hill in the
distance, but they could not appreciate such a beautiful sight. They crawled right into their
sleeping bag and passed out.
 Within their Dream Suspension, they Felt the tell-tale Chill of Death and then a Yank from
their Chest — their Heart . The Black dispelled and they saw the Light of the Afterlife. For a
horrifying moment, they thought they had Died in their sleep, but it was pushed aside by The
One Who Waits, Whom was propped up on His hands as far as the Chains allowed Him. His
Sentinels sat at His Sides, Silent with closed eyes. Still as Statues still.

“You were Within View of My Gateway, My Lamb, but You Held Strong. You have not
Died. I merely Called Upon Your Wondering Soul and It Answered as It Should.”

“... May I ask ‘How,’ exactly?”

“You already have. Sleep is the Closest Thing to Death without Actually Being Dead.”

“Ah, I see. Thank You for Answering me.”

The One Who Waits purred lightly, a smile curving behind His Veiled face. “Such Good
Manners, My Vessel. It seems I Chose Well on Multiple Ends When I Kept you from
Death.” He leaned down to their minuscule height and they could see His lips part to reveal
His blackened teeth. They looked like they were as long as their forearm! “ I Will be
Watching Your Every Move.” A tiny tilt of His head to the left, “You Will Do Well to Not
Disappoint Me, hmm, Little Lamb?”

“I am glad that You are Finding my Performance Good Enough for Your Tastes. I Will Not
Disappoint.”

The Cat chuckled darkly, His eyes — which were almost as angular as His face — squinting.
“My Lamb, Stellar Performance is My Requirement. But Worry Not, Your Skills can be
Honed. Rest and Heal for now. I Will Call When I Wish For you.”

The One Who Waits sent them off to continue Wondering in the Realm of Sleep and Dreams.

Chapter End Notes

Word count = 4182

ooohh worldbuildingggg i love it

also I am most likely gonna change some of the relationship tags and whatnot, but it
won't change anything
 Chapter 5
Chapter Summary

His Lamb is Strong, a Fighter in every Sense of the Words. He is also very Pleased to
find that their Soul Responds to Him so well. It will make Training them much Easier.
However, He Needs More Devotion to Do so with a good Portion of the Red Crown
Divved to them in the Living Realm. When will they Finally Begin with His Rites?

Chapter Notes

umm... my eventful weekend was not planned to happen cause I wanted to do a 2

chapter update instead of getting attacked by cramps.

Anyways, we are going to start slowing so things down a bit and more lore is being
exposed!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Babylon awoke feeling a bit groggy. They blearily laid in their sleeping bag, taking the time
to get in some extra rest. Their body didn’t feel as if it was in any other greater pain,
thankfully. Just limp from sleep and a little cold from the nighttime breeze. They heard the
crackling of fire beside them and they looked over. Ratau seemed to be the only one awake,
dipping some cloth into a bowl of water. He rang it out and turned towards them. He blinked
in surprise before smiling with relief. “Oh, Lamb, you’re awake.”

“Mhm. How long was I asleep for?”

The rat hummed as he began to dab at wounds on the sheep. “Two days. You gave us quite
the fright when you stumbled back to the Cult. Hurt as you were.”

“Oh, sorry to worry you all…”

“Ah, it’s fine. It’ll happen more than once. Best we get used to it now.”
Peaceful silence filled between them. Ratau worked on cleaning some of the healing wounds
they gained from their fight with the Leshy Devotee. Mostly burns, but they seemed to be
healing just fine. Babylon also noticed the Red Crown sitting close to their head, Eye
Observing them Closely. Ratau wrapped them up again after looking pleased at its progress.
“It should take another day for them to fully close. I suggest you take a break from any
further Crusading.”

“The One Who Waits said the same to me.”

“He did?”

“Yes, in my Sleep. Curious, isn’t it?”

The rat nodded while gathering up the dirty bandages. “Indeed. Let me wash these in the
river. You, keep resting. I can handle the Morning Sermon.”

***

The next time Babylon’s eyes opened, they winced and shoved their head into the grasses of
their sleeping bag. The afternoon sun was gleaming down on them, warming their wool and
fur. Beyond that, they heard stone against stone and the chatter of followers. They took a
moment to settle before sitting up fully. They yawned and blinked out the last of their long
sleep. The Red Crown’s Buzz was back in their head, greeting them. They stretched out their
stiff limbs, being careful to not reopen freshly sealed injuries. They got up from their sleeping
bag, only dressed in their underwear and bandages. The rest of their clothes were cleaned and
folded neatly beside them. There was also a towel sitting on top of it. Most likely from Ratau.
Babylon wrapped the towel around them for some extra modesty and gathered their clothes
up in their arms. As they trotted down to the river, they were greeted by their working
followers. The sheep waved back to them with a smile. They were pleased to see that almost
all of the stone was mined. It should be completed some time today.

Their quick wash in the river was refreshing. They spent some extra down time drying in the
sun, fully intending to take the Orders to Rest seriously. Babylon’s tail wagged as they
reclined on a sunstone. They have not been able to fully release themselves like this ever.
Before, they had to be on the run, Constantly Vigilant of anyone that seemed suspicious of
their Flock and hiding from the Hunting Parties. It is nice to be able to actually unwind from
being alert for so many years. They want to provide this for the others that have not known
such a feeling. To be able to be a safe source to start anew.

Babylon began to dry off and dress once they heard someone approaching the river. Hubre
was walking down the small slope to where they were dressing on the bank. She perked up
and smiled at them as she set down a metal bucket full of red cloth. “Good afternoon, Leader!
Are you feeling better? You came back so hurt from your Crusade…”

“Good afternoon.” Babylon greeted, tucking in the buttoned shirt into the tartan skirt. “Yes,
I’m feeling great right now. All of my injuries have closed, so I should be able to get back to
business in a day or so once I’m fully healed.” The sheep looked into the basket curiously as
they shrugged on their deel. “What do you have there?”

The cow unraveled what looked like a hooded red robe with a white symbol on the chest.
“Robes that Ratau had. He said they are the Robes of The One Who Waits. I’m washing them
right now since lunch has passed.” Hubre pulled out a container of detergent and a washboard
from the bucket.

“I see. Would you like help?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. And I’m sure you have not eaten yet. Go and fix something for yourself.
There should still be some berries in storage near the cooking fire.” Babylon nodded and left
Hubre to it.

Upon returning, they saw one of the two new recruits from the previous crusade. They should
introduce themselves officially.

They walked up to the dark grey terrier first. He was hard at work on the biggest stone piece
that seemed to be a part of some kind of wall once upon a time. They cleared their throat to
get his attention. He stopped and looked over at them, panting from the heat and work. “Oh,
you are the one that rescued me!”
“Yes, you can call me Lamb. I’m sorry for not being able to Introduce you to our Cult myself.
I was pretty wounded when I finished my Crusade.”

“Oh, it is no problem! The rat, oh what’s his name… Ratty? Roo? He helped show me around
and get me acclimated pretty quickly.”

“Ratau, you mean. He has been helping me keep things a float until I’ve gotten everything
under my hooves. May I ask your name?”

The terrier set down his pickaxe to lean against the stone, wiping some sweat from his fur.
“Yeah. The name’s Pops, don’t wear it out, haha!”

Babylon chuckled with him, receiving his charm a bit more than when they had originally
met him. “What do you do?”

“I was a hunting dog, small critters mostly. Rodents. Runs in my breed, you know.”

The sheep nods in understanding. “Perhaps you may be able to help hunt for some meat after
the stone’s gone? We’ve been eating berries for as long as we’ve been established, it would
be nice to have some options.”

Pops barked a smooth laugh. “That I can do, easy!” He looked back to his current project. “It
shouldn’t take too long now. Just got to get some of these bits and the rest should fall.”

Babylon looked around for who was close to them. They spotted Amdusias just a few yards
away, finishing breaking down some smaller rocks. They called him over. “Please help Pops
get the rest of this down. I would like all this stone cleared before nightfall.” The worm
looked up at the sun’s position; a hand past an arm. “Should be doable, Great Leader.
Sunset’s in about four hours.”

“Great! I’ll leave you two to it. And before I run off, Amdusias,” The green worm turned
back around towards them. “Do you know who the red worm is? Or where they are, rather?”
“Yeah, that was Disciple Vephar that you brought back. I was set to train under him, actually.
He should be by the Shrine.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

Babylon trotted off towards the huge Structure. Vephar was indeed there, kneeling in the
grass before It. They saw the occasional White Wisp of Devotion disappear into the wood
and stone. They quieted their footsteps as to not disturb him. They gently tapped the worm’s
shoulder, making him whip around to face them. He did not relax once they realized who it
was. Babylon grinned at him and beckoned him to follow. He rose up silently and the two of
them walked over closer to the cooking fire and sleeping bags.

“Yes, how may I Help you, Lamb?” Vephar did not seem too amused.

“Um, I just wanted to introduce myself since I couldn’t after our fight.”

The worm frowned and averted eye contact with them for a moment. “Our fight… Right…”

Silence awkwardly permeated the air between them. Once they realized that Vephar wasn’t
going to make the first move, they did. “Well, I’m Lamb, the Leader of this Cult. I know this
is probably not what you expected when I ‘killed’ you, but I know this will lead to a good
outcome.”

“... I’m sure. My name is Vephar. Is there anything I can Do for you… Leader?”

It looked like he was pained to talk to them, so Babylon decided to quickly wrap up this
conversation. “No, I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m available if you need any
help settling in. You can continue with Worship. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
The worm eyed them and left without another word. The sheep awkwardly watched him go
and sighed to themself. I should not expect everyone to be so receptive to me… I guess this is
where the Converting happens?

Babylon decided to grab a handful of berries from the storage box by the cooking fire and
walk to the Temple. They have not seen Ratau yet, so maybe he was in there?

Upon opening the door, they saw their mentor and Joojul tending to the wood pews. Dusting
and wiping any dirt from the seats. They both looked up and Joojul waved happily at them.
Babylon dipped their head to her while swallowing their fruit. Ratau got up from where he
was kneeling between pews with some difficulty. “Ah, Lamb! I wanted to catch up with you
about everything!” He grunted, joints popping, before relying heavily on his walking stick.
Babylon was quick to help him move out into the aisle. Ratau pointed to the podium, “Let’s
talk up there.” Babylon and Ratau stooped down to sit on the floor behind it for privacy. They
should get some chairs for the Temple.

The rat sat his walking stick down in his lap. “Ah, now, how was your Crusade, apart from
coming back to us at The One Who Waits’ Gateway, ahah!” Babylon laughed as well. “It was
good. Productive in making sense of a lot of theory regarding just how Magic works. I’ve
never thought about it so deeply before, but it has been enlightening. Oh! I did manage to
find a Commandment Stone in the company of an Owl; Haro.”

Ratau sniffed and scratched at his scar. “Hmm, can’t say I’ve heard of a Haro before. Though,
it is good you got a Commandment Stone. With these, you can officially declare Doctrines
during Sermons. We should wait until tomorrow for you to Deliver It, since you are back on
your feet again.”

Babylon nodded and Opened up the Crown Storage. They pulled out the Mended Stone and
put the heavy Tablet into the compartment within the podium behind them. They then began
to take stock of the items they had gathered. “I’ve got some berries and meat while I was
away and a bunch of wood. I’ve got twenty-four coins as well as some weapons that I
scavenged off of the heretics.”

“Good. We should start setting aside some gold for the Cult Savings. You don’t want to have
too little when you need to buy resources. I should have an empty notepad somewhere in my
cabin that I can bring so we have a physical catalogue."
“That’s a good idea.” Babylon closed the Storage and the Crown formed on top of their head
once again. “Anything else in the meantime?”

Ratau hummed while scratching in thought. “Nothing, besides getting this Cult officially
Named and your next Sermon. I’m afraid they won’t tolerate me stepping in for the Leader
anymore, hehe.”

Great One they had not even thought of considering Names for the Cult.

“And you could help out with Cleaning the Temple. In actuality, it should be your Job to
make sure the Temple is Spick and Span. The One Who Waits is quite Particular when it
comes to His Things: Temples, Altars, Offerings, the Like.”

Babylon nodded, taking note of this Trait of their God’s. “I Understand. Well, let’s not keep
waiting about. Maybe Inspiration will Strike me for a Name?”

It was meticulous work, Cleaning the Temple. They kept Hearing Death’s Voice faintly while
working. Mentions of dusting every surface, getting the underside of the pews, making sure
to get in the groves of wood made by the etching of the Ritual Circle, shining the
candlesticks, telling them to get Frankincense, Myrrh, and Sandalwood to Burn. He is
Demanding for them to set up a Proper Altar Sooner rather than Later. They would have to sit
with themselves later in the night and make a list of What was Needed to Please Him.

The Temple was gleaming and pruned by the end of the day. Babylon, Ratau, and Joojul met
up with the rest of the followers at the cooking fire. Joojul and Pops immediately started to
talk with each other as Hubre prepared dinner. Babylon put the meat they had in storage,
noticing that Pops must have gone hunting earlier with the skinned critters sitting inside.
They thanked him as they sat with the group. Amdusias and Vephar were talking quietly
amongst themselves a little ways away from everyone else. The red worm did not seem very
pleased with whatever his previous apprentice was trying to get through to him. Ratau took
hold of a wicker basket and pulled it close to where him and Babylon were sitting. “Robes for
everyone. I had them stored away from when I was a Vessel. The One Who Waits would
much prefer that His Following is able to be Distinguished from The Old Faith’s Cultists.
These were the only ones that were not insect-eaten, so I had Hubre wash them.”
Babylon began to pass out the robes to everyone while meat was cooked for the carnivores.
They all went through a few until they found one that was relatively their size. Joojul had to
roll up their sleeves and tie it up so it would not have a drape on the ground. Pops seemed
okay with having a shorter one to tie up for more movement. Amdusias and Hubre had the
most trouble, being as tall as they were. Dinner was full of storytelling from the followers
once again. They enjoyed hearing tales of their lives and lessons that were passed down from
generation to generation. Ratau left for his cabin before everyone settled down for the night
and Babylon was the last to retire. They kicked out the fire and made sure everything and
everyone was where they should be before crawling into their bed of grasses.

The next morning, Babylon awoke early. Dawn was on the cusp with how the blues were
lightening up. They breathed in the crisp air, listening to the critters skittering and the leaves
rustling. They loved this moment of peace. Just sitting with themself and the Earth. They are
determined to keep this in their new routine.

The sheep got up, going to wash in the river first and then forage for their breakfast to eat
near it. As they did so, they began to think more about a Name for the Cult.

They wanted it to Mean Something, but not be too Generic. They knew they wanted this Cult
to be their new Flock. It was already Shaping that way with how everyone was integrating
into Roles and Relationships with each other. Now, they were just stumped on what Kind of
Flock they were. The Cult is for The One Who Waits, Death Himself. A God that Seeks
Vengeance and Freedom— Transformation. Babylon’s ear flicked at His Thought to
acknowledge It. They dug deeper into their mind, searching for Something that Fit All of
those Things.

A Memory of their parents was brought up to the surface. They were speaking to Babylon
lowly in their Tongue, wiping confused tears from their face and muffling their cries. “Hush,
My Child. It is alright.” Maa told them, “Oma is with Mareba now.” Paa consoled. They had
seen one of their Flock members fall in front of them in a spray of red. They did not know
what was happening or what they had done for them in that instant. They understand now, of
course. A Sacrifice so they could Live. Mareba was a name that was always brought up when
one of their Flock died, or was taken or killed like Keeh Oma had been. They remembered
asking who they were. “Meuhel. Death.” Paa answered, answering them in both Tongues.
Always the one to be straightforward with them. Said It would do them no good to be
sheltered from what was happening around them. To them.

Babylon ate the last of their berries and went to wake their followers. Ratau was just
Teleporting in with a wave and a yawn as Hubre started the cooking fire. She seemed to be
the one that was voted to make meals since she was a farmer before coming to the Cult.
Babylon waved back and went ahead to prepare the Temple for Sermon. Today, they will be
Declaring the New Name and Determining the First Commandment to be Enacted.

They looked over the Temple as they lit up the candles. Everything was just how it was left
last night, thankfully. No stray critters taking up shelter in the corners. Babylon went to the
podium — Pulpit, they had learned last night — and tuned into the Buzz of the Red Crown.

Crown?

‘Yes?’

Good, it worked. They had only ever Talked with It once It Spoke first.

Oh, wait, could It hear that?

‘Yes.’ It seemed amused at this, with the fuzziness around the edges of their mind.

Heh, sorry. Um, I wanted to know what Commandment I should Declare. There are surely
Ones that are Pre Established with The One Who Waits.

‘Indeed, there is only One Option today, but there will be More to be Made. However,
Free Will is Something Every Creature is Borne With. Declare His Commandments or
Declare the Ones that will Suit your Vision; it is your Choice.’

The Temple Bell began to ring, interrupting their conversation. The doors opened a second
after, their followers filing in and sitting at the front row pews. It was not long until everyone
was accounted for and Amdusias closed the Temple doors tight.

“Good morning, everyone!” Babylon greeted and everyone called back with various levels of
energy. “I am happy to be back in action after a surprisingly long sleep to heal from my last
successful Crusade. I wish to Welcome, Pops and Vephar. I hope this Cult will Prove to be
Worthy of Becoming a Home for you both.” The followers politely clapped for their newest
members.

“Now, today’s Sermon, we shall begin to Introduce the Commandments of our Faith so that
we may Follow our Patron, The One Who Waits, as closely as we can.”

Babylon pulled out the Commandment Stone from the shelf within the Pulpit and set it down
with a loud thunk against the wood. They then Called for the Crown’s Doctrine Book,
opening up to a new page with Words now Inscribed into it. The sheep did not recognize the
Symbols in it, but was provided a Translation from the Crown. They began to Speak the
Translation from It.

“In the Observation of our Rites we Taste Divinity; Through the Study of our Doctrine we
are Blessed by the Sacrament of Death.”

Ratau and Amdusias lead the others with the Response to their Call.

Babylon then turned to the Commandment Stone, Guided by the Crown. They placed their
hand on it and watched as Symbols Etched into the Book and Stone. “Light the Fires and let
us Dance deep into the Night with the Bonfire Ritual. A Staple in Praising our God with
Fervor.”

With this Declaration, the Stone glowed Red with the Red Crown’s Magic and the Symbols
were Magically Seared into It. Babylon left the Commandment on the Pulpit and continued
with Sermon. It was simple; reminding everyone that their Faith is to be shone both
Physically and Spiritually. To be Kind to one another, for they are all Living together under
One Faith and Mission. They also took the time to dish out some work that would suit a
particular follower that needed to be done in the Cult, like hunting and gathering food,
washing worn clothes, and cultivating a farm plot— which is to be under the direction of
Hubre.

“Before we all go to our tasks, I have one last Announcement. It is about time we put a Name
to this Cult!”
Their followers excitedly muttered.

“I have spent a long time Contemplating What it should be Called, and I have settled on
Something that has Meaning not only to me and hopefully you all, but to the Old Faith as We
come to Identify with It Closer as We Grow Together. Mareba Seureg will be Our Name.”

Silence followed this. Curious and confused faces met Babylon’s and Vephar raised his hand,
speaking for the first time since entering the Temple. “Mareva Sewre?” Babylon held in their
wince at the mispronunciation, “What does that Mean?”

“Mareba Seureg.” Babylon expectantly motioned for the others to repeat. We will work on
the pronunciation later…

“Mareba Seureg: These are words from my Native Tongue. Mareba being a Name for Death
and Seureg meaning Flock. Death Flock or Flock of Death when Translated. Being a Flock is
Very Revered amongst my People. It Means that you are Family; Taking Care of and being
Loyal to One Another, No Matter the Circumstances. It Means that We are Each Other's
Home and Strength. The Old Faith tried to Break this Apart by Separating Us and Pitting Us
Against Each Other Throughout the Genocide. The Bishops may have Taken my Previous
Flock, but I will Not let Them Take my Language nor the New Flock We All have Forged with
Each Other Through The One Who Waits; Death, Mareba.”

Joojul clapped enthusiastically, tears streaming down her face. The others followed with their
own Praise, though not as emotional as hers. Babylon felt the Energy Lift and Soar along
with the Devotion being Absorbed into the Crown. It felt like Heat pooling in their abdomen
before Releasing in a Chill they were slowly getting used to.

With that, Babylon Dismissed them from Sermon. Ratau stayed behind like he had previously
and met them at the end of the stairs to the Alatar and Pulpit.

“What a beautiful Name. You will have to teach me the Proper Pronunciation!”

“Of course. I’d be Happy to teach you Baagol!” They really could not stop their tail from
wagging in this moment. Preserving and Spreading their Culture from Obscurity had always
 been one of their Reasons for Going On. For Fighting as Hard as they have Been.

“Everyone loved the Meaning behind it; did you Feel how the Faith Rose?” Babylon nodded
at the question. They were glad everyone liked It.

“Now we just keep it that High. Preaching Sermons, Performing Rituals and Providing for
the Needs of your followers will keep It that way. The Bones of your Enemies are Required
to Perform such Rituals. Your next Task is to Return to the Lands of The Old Faith once your
wounds have fully healed. Destroy their Skeletons to gather their Bones, Recruit more
followers, and return to Perform a Ritual here in the Temple.”

Chapter End Notes

Word count = 3934

Each creature species has their own native language that corresponds to their irl animal
sounds on top of a 'Common' language. Sheepfolk speak Baagol since their culture is a
generous mix of Mongol and Slavic. I've changed some lettering for the Mongolian
words I used as a base to fit their animal sounds phonetically. Please take this all with a
grain of salt cause its meant for fun, not to mock <3

(Yall DO have my permission to yell at me if I do manage to offend, just tell me what it

is so i can fix it and stuff)
End Notes

Thanks for kudos and comments, they are most appreciated :D

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!