The Creation of Silence

The Birth of a God

Bright light filled the abandoned temple. With a hiss of pain, the two Bloodkeepers reached to cover their eyes, squinting at the light that interrupted their secret meeting. Before they could cover their eyes something pulled them toward each other, back to back. The pressure made the female Bloodkeeper gasp, her chest aching. She could feel her battle partner squirm against her back, struggling but appearing to be stuck against her.

She had her eyes open, but she couldn't see anything. The only thing that filled her vision was a dazzling white, colourful sparks in the corner of her eyes.The male demon had his eyes squeezed shut, but the light burned through his lids as if they were tissue paper. Red tinged the edge of his vision, stars floating under his eyelids and dazing him.


It felt like a thousand hands grabbed onto her body, pushing and compacting her form into the tightest possible, pressed against him to the point she thought her bones would be crushed into powder. She felt her ribs creak.

The male Bloodkeeper had hands gripping him tightly, and while she felt as if she would be crushed into nothing, he felt the hands grip his limbs until he felt they would amputate him, though he heard his bones creak in protest as they pulled and pulled at him like a wishbone waiting to be broken...He feared he was going to be ripped to shreds, but he was still somehow pressed against his battle partner's back, in a way that made his head swim.


Blinded from the light and the sensations, they were barely aware of their bodies twisting and merging. Screams of pain echoed off the stone walls, a horrific symphony of agony as they collapsed onto the stone floor.

Four arms and legs became two, and two harsh cries became one heart-chilling wail.


Two souls became one that day.

---

They screamed until they had no breath left. Her throat felt raw, and he felt like if he tried to talk, he'd have no voice left.She tried to stand and his legs crumpled, unwilling to move. In their confusion and disorientation, a voice boomed through the desecrated temple.

I would recommend not moving.

The Goddess's voice crashed into their brain, ears flicking back instinctively. They shook their head to try and clear their vision, white hair fell into view. It jarred them enough to make them pause, lips parted and expression one of confusion.

I don't have white hair. She thought.
I don't have white hair. He thought.

It echoed in their head, making it swim. That felt...wrong.

What's going on? She thought.
What is she talking about? He thought.

He tried to clutch his head, but found his arms sluggish and heavy. They fought him, twitching and grasping at the dirt of the floor. Her limbs wouldn't move the way she wanted to, making panic and dread settle in her chest.

I would take caution, I assume two mortals ascending to Godhood together is not a comfortable experience.

The Goddess of Creation stared down at them, face hidden behind her headdress. She kept her distance, watching the new God attempt to get their bearings. They stared through the veil, watching the Bloodkeeper look down at their hands, flexing their fingers.

Your kind did not have enough guidance. I fear you will guide your people to more wars, so I have devised a solution. Through you, your kind will learn.

What have you done to me?
What magic is this?

"What magic have you done--" Their thoughts scrambled, and they clutched their head. "I don't understand!"


When they looked up, they were alone. Together.

Aftermath

I remember that shortly after the end of the War, many Tribes sent out small crews of Bloodkeepers to deface any images of Devishtari in their territories. While combing through our land, our group came upon a ruined temple of Devishtari. Within it was a heavy, powerful energy made the more magic sensitive Bloodkeepers unwell, many of us felt sick to our stomachs.

Sitting on a ruined chair meant for a preacher behind a broken altar, was a strange Bloodkeeper with fur as black as pitch. I remember being stunned by the snow white mane draped along their shoulders, something I had never seen before. When we approached, the unknown entity looked up, red sclera and black slits staring into our souls.

There were no markings to find, no tribe sigils sewn into their clothes. They moved like a ghost, circling our crew. A yellow edged scrap of paper within a leatherback notebook. The rest of the page is ripped, splattered with a dark ink.

---

The birth of Silence marked the departure of Bloodkeepers worshiping Devishtari. What followed was a vicious vandalism of any artwork and temples under her name in their lands. It was the first instance of a species actively ceasing worship of Devishtari.