Lightbringer - The Patron Saints of the Damned III
Chapter 17 - Memento Mori

Exousia sat waiting … waiting for the belongings of the one who had to die. She was hungry, longing to satiate her appetite with the fear she craved. Part of her was aware of what was happening—at the battle being waged around her. That part of her wished to be part of it, to be protecting those she cared about. But the hunger inside her—that was what was needed in this moment. And so Exousia was giving in to this other part of her, the one craving death.

Dufaii glided to her, holding with the hair of their enemy. He handed it to her and said, “Their hand—we need it to be destroyed.”

Exousia cackled, imagining what would make a hand so important. Perhaps the victim had struck someone powerless with it, and so this would be poetic justice for them. Or maybe they were an artist, whose life would soon be turned to senseless pain. She mused briefly and both thoughts before spreading the hair over the bones piled in front of him. Then, she began to chant something that was in the back of her throat, looking at the bones until she found one that was jagged.

Exousia screamed in laughter as she jabbed it into her own hand. This elicited two responses of equal delight: a scream from somewhere far away and a look of horror in Dufaii. She continued to jab the bone into her own hand, twisting it inside—relishing in the pain. And every time she lifted the instrument to do it again, her flesh was mended immediately—the damage transferred to the target.

Suddenly Dufaii looked her in the eye with stern strength. His gaze was black, cold, and devoid of the fear that had been there a second ago. They pulled and pried and emitted violent energy like a bucket of ice water.

Exousia didn’t have the breath to scream in retaliation. Slowly, she emerged from the spell her magic had placed on her. She had done her part but enemies were rapidly approaching. Exousia tried to jump to her feet, but fell to her knees as her body struggled to recover as fast as her mind had.

Some twenty humans and abominations were nearly there, with rocks and claws ready. Their thirst for blood, vengeance, and power created a psychic energy that permeated the air.

Dufaii went for the bulk of the attackers, using his sword to break their bones and joints as he passed between them. But as more humans arrived, it became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to destroy them all.

Exousia tried to stand again and barely managed to do so. She lifted her arms defensively against the horde.

The Hydra’s roar erupted from beside her, and the creature charged forward. Each of its twelve heads sank its teeth around a target and began to try to swallow them down. It used its claws to dash at others, but nearly a dozen still continued their charge.

Roach dropped from the sky to tackle three more of them. He bit into one of their necks while grappling two more with his arms and legs.

The remaining nine had a clear shot, now.

Exousia gritted her teeth and readied himself as best she could. She dodged the first attack, formed her hand into a claw, and grasped the first attacker’s exposed belly with enough force to get a handful of his intestines. Exousia tried to use that human as a shield but was immediately assaulted by several punches from either side of her. She closed her eyes, anticipating grievous injury. There were several wet and crunching sounds, and the blows stopped entirely. Exousia opened her eyes.

To her disbelief, Megan was standing there wielding odd knuckle-dusters with blades on the striking surfaces of them. Scattered behind her were the humans with now-broken spines. Megan was panting, a mix of red, gold, and black blood drenching her face, her robes, and her hands. Her hair was matted in some places and sticking up in others. Her eyes were wild from the frenzy of battle and she was looking around for the next enemy without any idea that she was safe for the moment. This made it so that it took several moments for her to really see Exousia.

“Megan?:” Exousia whispered. She wanted to express her gratitude, but words seemed … insufficient. She also had a million questions. She just wanted to say something, but there was nothing that felt right and there was no time.

However, Megan was not nearly so stunned. She helped Exousia up and then embraced her tightly. Then she backed away and said, “We’ve got to go.”

Exousia swallowed, knowing that she was right. She began to walk forward on shaky legs towards the heat of the battle against the Creator.

The Creator had lost its grasp on Gabriel, and their hand seemed horrifically damaged. It was swollen purple and green, and the bones inside seemed badly broken. However, that didn’t mean that they were losing. With the bulk of demon warriors now protecting the demon civilians from the corrupted humans and abominations, the Creator had the upper hand against those still fighting them. Every blow sent a powerful demon crashing to the ground.

Abhayananda, the newly freed Gabriel, and the other angels provided some amount of protection. But they were losing their numbers and their strength as they took blow after savage blow. What was worse was that the storms brewing around the Creator were building in intensity. Already the lightning was sparking visibly.

“What’s happening to them?” Megan asked, staring at the Creator with evident fear.

Exousia shook her head. “To kill an immortal, you have to cut out their soul. Gabriel’s attempt to destroy them must have failed half-way through. I can only guess it destabilized their soul and reawakened their madness from long ago. We can’t let them release the lightning—it will destroy all our souls just like theirs!” She sprinted towards the battle, going through her mind to search for any magic she could use that would not put her allies at risk. But before she could settle on anything, someone else reached the front of the battle to try and stop the storms.

It was Raphael with gold blood matted in her dark hair. She was injured and seemed off-balance as she stood in front of the Creator and shouted, “Stop!”

The Creator paused in confusion. But when they spoke, his voice rumbled like low thunder. “Even you seek to betray me.”

“No!” Raphael said, her voice cracking. “I would have destroyed everyone here to save you! I tried to trap them here … because I knew that you never would. The real you still loves these people … and doing this will destroy who you really are!”

“She’s right; you won’t survive this,” the Archangel Michael said, also limping forward so he was shoulder to shoulder with Raphael. He was covered in a myriad of blood. “Your true mind knows that everything that has happened in this vile place of torture is because of your madness. Your guilt and shame over your actions back then consumed you … burned at you inside. Seeing this place, I understand now.”

“You, the most stupid of the Archangels, understand nothing,” the Creator spat. “Even when I didn’t see all of your treachery clearly, I excluded you from my plans for that exact reason.”

These words seemed to strike Michael hard, and he was unable to reply. If anything, he looked winded and like he might fall.

“No!” Raphael shouted, shaking her head and looking at her fellow Archangel with eyes full of tears. “That isn’t true! We agreed to secrecy because we all knew that Michael would never let you begin your journey to destroy yourself. I … was no better; I just knew how to cloak my actions in preserving you.”

Now Gabriel landed beside them, as blood-soaked as the rest. “Michael’s heart leads him to the right path as truly as our minds lead us. He has made no more mistakes than either Raphael or I have.”

“No, you three poisoned my mind,” the Creator fumed as the clouds and lightning around them circled with greater intensity. “You let me think I was safe. But the truth is that you would all kill me, you would all betray me. Every last one of you.”

Raphael whispered, “My love … you’re right about one thing only. And that is that we would sooner destroy your essence than allow it to destroy your soul.”

The three Archangels raised their weapons. They looked straight up at the Creator and not what had been happening below. For while they had been speaking, the abominations and humans had changed targets—rallying around the Creator. This had allowed the demon citizens to quietly begin to move into the caves. Nearly all carried the unconscious or gravely wounded bodies of their brethren.

“The worst of the traitors will suffer most,” the Creator roared and extended their hands towards the Archangels. The lightning around them thundered and jumped around.

Exousia knew she couldn’t let this happen. She let her eyes roll back into her head as she drew upon her human magic. For a moment, she became lost as she lifted her hands, and thousands of dust plumes rose with them. There was much dust in this valley of death, all hers to command. So, with it, she enshrouded the entire land in darkness and began to move the air around them.

Within seconds, all that could be seen were dust and the dull glow of lightning. The electrical storm flashed in this way and that, the blows sending up explosions of rocks wherever they hit. But they found no target. And these broken rock fragments simply became part of the tornado that cut abominations and corrupted souls.

A bolt of lightning suddenly exploded in front of Exousia, causing her to fall and strike her head hard on the stone ground. She let out a disoriented moan and tried to leap back to her feet to continue the spell. But it was too late; already the dust had begun to settle. She saw a yellow flash and shut her eyes.

There was no feeling in Exousia’s body after the lightning hit. She wondered if this was what total annihilation felt like … but knew that could not be the case. No, any second the searing white hot pain would hit. But that moment never came. Exousia opened her eyes and saw someone at her side

Roach was there, his body trembling and black smoke rising from it. The Lightbringer’s trident was in his hands, though something hot had caused it to melt and crack the exoskeletal hands holding it. Like the Lightbringer of old, he had … absorbed the wrath of the Creator into himself.

Exousia fell to her knees, unable to breathe as she saw Roach’s frail body bubble and burn. She could not even look up as she heard the Archangels, rebel angels, and high demons resume their attack against the Creator—drawing them further away. She shook the tiny demon, trying so desperately to get him to wake.

Roach opened his eyes just a little. They were dry and seemed unable to focus on anything, likely because he was now blind. But that was not the most horrific part. The most disturbing thing was his skin, which was beginning to shift and become different colors in different places—just like in the stories of when the Lightbringer’s new incarnations had first begun. These were only small spots at first, but they were slowly growing. This wasn’t just a demon injury that would eventually heal. No, this was grave; this was damage to the soul on part with the Creator’s madness.

Roach managed to say, “Exousia?”

“Roach!” Exousia said, her jaw chattering.

“I saw the lightning,” Roach said between gasps. “I saw blue. I didn’t mean to; I’m sorry.”

“No!” Exousia said, feeling for a moment as if she were feeling hot tears burning their way down her cheeks. Of course, in this place, it could have only been the blood from her head wound. She shook her head and said, “You’re my friend; you can’t go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Roach said, struggling for breath and shaking with terror. “I don’t want to be a monster again.”

“I don’t know how-“ Exousia began.

But Roach began to tremble more violently. When he could, he said, “I figured out the puzzle.”

Exousia didn’t know what he meant at first, not until the tiny demon faced her with those unseeing eyes.

“He made me … to solve puzzles,” Roach said, reminding her of what Mr. Green had said. “Gods … they couldn’t steal the shard of divinity to get power. Their shards had to go to the Creator. But you … you came here … even when you weren’t supposed to. So what if … the shard could be given freely?”

Exousia shook her head repeatedly; this wasn’t what she wanted!

“I don’t want to be a monster,” Roach said, letting out a soft sob under his struggling breath. “Please. I don’t want to hurt anyone again. I don’t want to stop being me and forget you and Baph. I’m so-” Nothing else came out. His gasping picked up along with his trembling. And the splotches of changing color spread more so.

Soon, this incarnation would be no more. What was more, there was no telling what untold new horrors he would face. The Lightbringer had never recovered from the effects of the first storm, so what would that look like compounded?

Exousia screamed as she pulled out his black pocket knife, extended the blade, and plunged it into her friend’s chest. She cut more quickly than she ever had in her life. She pulled the heart out and severed it completely from the rest of the body so that the changes couldn’t continue in the corpse. Then, she cut into the heart and revealed the silver soul inside, streaked with infinite yellow stripes that went to the very core of the soul like countless cracks in a glass ball.

With her knife ready, Exousia followed these until she reached the tiniest piece of silver. This piece was connected to a silver web which spread out with many tendrils that thinned until they became invisible. It was also connected to a much larger piece beside it, by another tendril which almost looked like barbed wire. Surely, the smaller one was Roach ... so the piece next to it had to be Mr. Green.

Exousia took a small portion of the tiny piece—cutting away all else. This revealed a light at the core of them all, like the fruit under the thin peel of an apple. It was the shard of the divine. Exousia released the other husks and watched at they swiftly floated back to the Creator, just as the husks and shards of the gods had done. But she did not release the tiny husk of her friend still connected to the shard of the divine.

Exousia then lifted the knife and plunged it into her own chest, letting out a pained groan as she did. This would have killed her or sent him into shock were her body a physical one. But the one advantage of this realm of horror built to allow its prisoners to endure the pain with utmost awareness of their own suffering was immortality. So, after taking several excruciating breaths, Exousia was able to take the thread, wrap it around her knife, and press it inside her own chest.

At first, nothing happened. But then the thread became tight as the small soul piece began to draw the shard of divinity into it. Then it was in and a part of her.

Exousia felt a surge of power like nothing she had ever felt before. She hadn’t really thought about what she was doing, only about the actions she absolutely had to take. She hadn’t considered how much more power this shard had even when compared to the Archangels. And she had no idea what that small piece of soul would do to her.

Exousia felt her head grow slightly heavier as Roach’s black horns grew upon her face, but then they extended—much longer than what they had been. She felt the muscles and bones in her back churn and heat up as something took shape behind her. Exousia looked back and saw two black wings, shimmering with tiny glowing dots like the night sky.

Exousia took the trident that was now lying in dust and stood. She looked ahead at the battle being waged against the Creator, with only a handful of demons and angels left standing. They had succeeded in their distraction to get the demons free. But they were the ones trapped now, in a battle they would not win. Behind them, all of Hades and Ammon’s forces fought back desperately against the sea of humans and tumors. As they all fought, the electricity again built.

The Hydra, who had followed behind her all this time, nudged her with one of its heads, giving a fearful look at the power emanating from the lightning.

Exousia nodded and said, “We won’t let that happen to anyone else, ever again.” As she said it, she felt a new energy inside her, a gentle urging from a new inner voice. Exousia clumsily took flight on her new wings for just long enough to land on the back of the Hydra.

The Hydra looked at her strangely for a few moments before it returned its gaze to the Creator. And when she pointed the trident at the battle, it began to charge. More like a lizard than any sort of horse or traditional steed, it snaked along the dark ground in complete silence. Then, when they were upon their prey, it sprung. Two heads each latched on to the Creator’s head, legs, ribs, and arms from behind.

This attack gave Exousia momentum to launch herself into the air. She landed a heavy blow on the back of the Creator’s head with the blunt end of the trident. It was enough to draw a heavy explosion of blood and send her opponent toppling to the ground.

The Creator rolled quickly, seeming to try to figure out what could have attacked them like that. They looked at the angels and demons, but all had flown back out of reach. Then, they looked at the Hydra still biting into them. They shouted their wrath and sent a beam of lightning towards it.

But Exousia extended her hand, the voice inside her whispering all the secrets it had learned in enduring the Creator’s wrath twice over. The power was overwhelming, but Exousia now knew not to draw it into herself. Instead, she made herself a conduit and pointed the trident back at her enemy—allowing the power to strike at its source.

The blow created a wound in the Creator’s chest, where it hit them. It tore away flesh and left a hole large enough to see bone. Their anger rose visibly in how their muscles strained and their skin reddened. It thundered, “You were supposed to leave, Lightbringer!”

“I’m not the Lightbringer you knew,” Exousia said, wrath flowing through her as she drew on her demon ability to project fear into their soul. The toll on her psyche was far less than it had ever been, even against this creature of near-infinite power. Of course it was, that was how the Creator had always meant it to be.

“I am the Creator!” the Madness screamed. Their eyes were wild and they seemed like a rabid animal—their terror growing. They managed to pull free from the Hydra, skin ripping and remaining in the Hydra’s needle-like teeth. A punch landed and sent Exousia rolling along the stone ground. It winded her and brought pain from the flesh being scraped off along the ground. She braced for another attack that never came

The Creator’s fist met Gabriel’s shield, and their arm was then counterattacked by blows from Ammon, Yana, Attel, and Michael. Hades, Abhayananda, and Raphael then began to attack their face so that they were blinded. As a last resort, the Creator tried to generate another storm.

Exousia screamed, charged, and plunged her trident into her enemy’s chest, throwing the Creator off their feet and to the ground. Exousia rode the force of that attack and found herself standing on the Creator with the trident still in both hands. Lightning again ran through her—burning while she refused to let go. She screamed louder and with more fury, returning the pain back into the being it came from. The ensuing feedback loop only grew more intense, more powerful, more agonizing as it circled from Exousia to the Creator and back again.

The Creator shouted and tried to throw a punch. But their body was pinned by the force of every demon, angel, and Archangel not fighting the swarms of humans. In the Creator’s weakened state, the demons and angels were just enough to match their physical power.

Exousia tried to push the trident deeper, to cut and expose their soul, but she simply did not possess the strength to do so. Already, she could feel her grip on the weapon beginning to slip. And the pain was not running through her as cleanly as it first had. The longer she fought, the more it began to stick and the more the madness began to cloud her mind. It filled him with doubt, confusion, and terror above all else. No … there was no way for her to do this for any longer.

“Hold on, Exousia!” Ammon said as he stepped up and plunged his short sword downward to open the wound in the Creator’s chest more. And though a small amount of the electricity clearly ran through him, he controlled it.

Michael was the next to join them, draw his sword and open the wound. His eyes were swollen and he looked like he could barely see.

Then Megan’s much smaller body joined the rest of them. Her legs gave out from under her as soon as her feet stepped upon the torso of the Creator, but Michael caught her and steadied her until she was able to grab his claymore and help push it deeper.

Last to join them was Dufaii, who did not draw his sword. Instead, he grabbed the trident and put all his strength behind it.

Exousia no longer had to try to kill the Creator. Her only thought was to draw in and reflect the lightning that made her feel like her insides were smoldering. She had no power remaining to defeat the Creator, but she had others. Not only the ones standing shoulder to shoulder with her, but also all the demons and angels who held the Creator back. And these became more and more as the sounds of the battle against corrupted humans died down.

The Creator let out a scream and then collapsed with the trident embedded in the silver essence of their soul. Their body spilled buckets of golden blood to the ground and they did not move.

Exousia fell and could not think straight for several moments. Then, she managed to look around her at what was happening. Everyone was looking at her, waiting for what would come next. She looked to Ammon and said, “Y-you were the champion … you’re supposed to do this.”

“No … that is your role … as it always had been, Lightbringer,” Ammon replied,

Exousia raised her trident and plunged it into the Creator’s exposed soul. It shattered … but it wasn’t alone. Just like the madness that had connected them, light erupted from the chests of the abominations and the corrupted humans alike. Then it began to rise from the rocks themselves. A once-dark realm soon became a see of ever-cascading starlight, as the pointless torment of it all was at long last coming to an end.