The day came, and the heroes gathered.… As dramatic as that sounds, it wasn’t anywhere near as exciting. They woke up on the day-of, got their things, and Homer and Maia checked out of the Gallivanting Galnt. Neither of them would be returning, and they gifted most of their money to Aymanah, who took it quietly.

  From there, they headed over to Theodora’s manor to check in with her. It took an hour or so for her to prepare the necessary pomp and circumstance required, and she was relentlessly mocked by her brother the whole way through- but the two seemed to enjoy each other’s company all the same, so Maia couldn’t voice a compint. Not when they were so close.

  The anointed procession started from the hilly manors, down the main streets, towards the greatest of the cathedrals.

  Homer had taken the time at Theodora’s to completely shave himself, both beard and hair, leaving him bald and smooth faced. He looked different. Younger, perhaps. Fiercer? With the grays removed from him, it became clearer that his wrinkles weren’t too notable. He could pass for a much younger man. The calm on his face was almost eerie.

  Aymanah had done nothing all too special, since they didn’t own fancier clothes, but they had cleaned up their feathers, and were even wearing actual specialty shoes; they wouldn’t be scraping the floors of the cathedral like this. Homer seemed very pleased, which in turn annoyed them- but they weren’t bickering. Aymanah probably didn’t want to attract the attention nor ruin their st day together.

  And Maia did not dress any differently. Sticking out would be bad. While she had Theodora’s protection, letting her hood slip and revealing her deathly looking self would attract undue attention that she’d rather save for when they were inside.

  “You’ve got a pn, I trust…? I’ll be causing a scene the moment I spot that bastard of a god, War, and you’ll be on your own afterward.”

  Maia gives Homer a gnce as he speaks, sighing.

  “Could you maybe wait…? I don’t know, until after the ceremony?”

  Homer gnces down at her with a soft smile, shaking his head.

  “I’ve waited years already. Give an old man the chance to end things on his own terms, with an adoring audience. Or maybe a hateful one! Ha, if I get skewered by cathedral guards before I even get to my bout, that will be a fitting end too. As long as it is here, facing my sire.”

  Maia couldn’t argue with that, but-

  “... I’ve no pn. I- well. I will hope that she realizes I am here, and will wait for me after the ceremony…”

  “You should do what I am about to do, Maia. Go to her! Fuck the nobles, and fuck their dead! Hahahahaha!”

  Theodora had to shush Homer so that more of the crowd wouldn’t hear him, but the old man just grinned and shook his head. Had he drunk before going, or was he just drunk on life? It was easy to get whisked away in the moment when you knew the hours ahead would be the st of your life.

  Up the main hill, past the lesser cathedrals and temples, and to the crown jewel they’d seen before when visiting the grove. Other beings closer to the gods had joined by now. More of Life’s entourage, chattering away… The occasional true Patron of Arts, vivid in rainbow-like skin colors and decked in outfits that seemed outright impossible in style, with floating hats and strange capes and feathers from birds she’d never seen, and even The Harlequin, one of Comedy’s few mortal confidants, a being who had abandoned all gender and humanity to become a living joke, cartwheeling past the crowd and up the hill.

  Crowds had gathered around, consisting of the poorer masses and the middle css, alongside academics and minor nobles who had not gained permission to enter, all divided by css and status. As much as the city tried to present itself as paradise, the css divide was ironically at its clearest during a day where all men were supposed to be equal in front of the gods.

  Homer has his eyes glued to the crowds, but he eventually turns away. Maybe he was looking for someone. Maia knows one woman ought to be there, but she does not look either. This matter is outside of her hands now-

  although Aymanah is clearly waving to someone. Good for them.

  The litany was starting; a long prayer to the gods to justify such a rge audience for the temporary breaking of rules, for the raising of the dead, and for the snake eating its own tail. It was amazing to see and hear up close, of course, but Maia could admit that she was starting to feel a little tired of standing around by the twentieth minute of litany…

  Just as she’s about to disrespectfully yawn, the doors swing open with a loud creak. A gear mechanism makes the process easy, and the crowd starts to flow in. There’s pews upon pews for people to sit on, and Maia can spot stairways that some people are taking for higher balconies, more private, seemingly made for especially important nobles and merchants who have bought the luxury of privacy for this event.

  Theodora is not an important enough noble to be able to do so, but that fits their purposes; if they were stuck watching from above, Homer would have a harder time attaining his goals. Their pew is in the very middle, off to the right; quick to enter, quick to exit. Homer gets the rightmost seat, followed by Aymanah, then Maia, then Theodora and then Callistis. They did not hold this pew alone; another few groups were next to them, but they did not mingle.

  “And now we spend about an hour or two sitting here with our thumbs up our asses, ss.”

  “... What?”

  “The priests need to prepare, of course. And the gods need to appear one by one, as to not steal each other’s thunder. And they all do so in their own ways. And you have to be quiet through all of it, or they might think you disrespectful. It will be a very boring affair. Life and Death appear st, as they are the main event…”

  And there would be no glimpse of her then? Maia had already spent so much time waiting, and now she had to wait more? The thought to get off the pew and leave to meet her now crossed her mind, but she’d attract far too much attention doing so. And it was just for a few hours.

  How bad could it be?

  As it turns out, it was quite bad. Gods, for as grand as they were, often made grand entrances- but those grand entrances were boring. Announcements by their priests, a slow ensemble to the front- and then they preened, or spoke, or merely gnced before heading to their positions near the ptform.

  Even the far more minor gods were here, such as Sailors, the foul mouthed aggregation of man’s belief in the sea, or Shadows, the helpful aid she’d gotten before- although the slinking shadows seemed to not pay attention to her. Perhaps by order of their progenitor.

  Maia was tuning things out by the seventh or so god, but her eyes trailed along Homer. She couldn’t stop herself, really. This was the st time they’d see each other, come what may. And he was so calm, eyes aimed forwards. Could he be considered brave or foolish? Or maybe he was a brave fool, for one could be both.

  She had long given up on the thought of stopping him. They’d shared their goals from the first step. Homer was to die, Maia was to love that which brought death. Death was good. She was not afraid of dying, nor was she afraid of others dying. But… Was this right? His wife, his son- he would be leaving people behind who missed him. Was the right? But everyone who died had someone they left behind.

  This ideological conflict had been bubbling underneath the surface for days, but it came to the surface now. She didn’t want him to die yet.

  She didn’t want him to-

  “Lass. Have you noticed something?”

  Homer isn’t looking at her, eyes nailed on the ptform ahead. Maia blinks, bashful- quickly turning her head, clearing her throat from the bubbling bile that had been building up there in her moment of sadness. Okay, he hadn't caught her. Probably.

  “I… Have not been paying much attention, I will admit.”

  Homer snorts, hand stroking his chin.

  “War is not here. One would think that they would deign to appear early. From what I’d heard of previous ceremonies, they tend to show up among the first…”

  Yet they were quite a few divinities in and there was no War to be seen. Maia had no clue about how the proceedings went, but she could concede that it was strange- it would likely be improper for a truly major god to make an appearance right before Life and Death did, right? That’d be like upstaging them. And while War was audacious and bold, this would’ve been a full on scandal. Would War care for such? Probably not…?

  “It might be nothing.”

  Yet War did not appear. All the gods came, and the ceremony proceeded along, yet War never came. Homer did not show his discontent, but the grip he had on his own knee was so tight Maia was afraid he’d shatter a bone. Why-? Was there a conflict brewing somewhere in the world that the god had to attend to?

  It was time for Life and Death to take the stage. They arrived from their opposing chambers, led by their attendants. Life had many, all reted to him in some way or form, a joyful procession, while Death arrived only with the aid of her head priest, an old man with gray skin. Maia could tell that his pale form was due to old age rather than due to her love, though.

  The raised ptform was not far off the floor; enough that both gods needed to take about 3 steps up to climb to it, but nothing more; a wide open space in the middle for them to meet, and to press their foreheads together, whispering something that no-one could hear before they then split and walked to their round engravings at both ends.

  It was going to start-

  … it reeks of sulfur?

  It reeks of blood too.

  And the cries of women are not of joy,

  and the screaming of men is not due to religions euphoria,

  and there is no burning incense.

  Only War, cutting through reality itself with their greatsword at the very middle of the ptform, betwixt Life and Death, their amorphous form appearing out of thin air. The entire cathedral falls silent as War steps out from the rift and takes mettle of everyone present.

  “I am here due to prayer.”

  The voice of thousands as one rings through the cathedral.

  “A group of men and women prayed to me today. They begged me to not appear. They begged me to not deign this event worth my time. However, in their prayers, they revealed why; one of my own kin is here, and he wishes to duel me. He wishes to sy me.”

  War extends an arm out. Not towards Homer. To the crowd. Like they don’t know who among them is his flesh and blood; and they speak. In the voice of a stern general, in the voice of a pleading child, in the voice of a dying man.

  “I invite him, then. Come, blood of my blood, blood spilled. Let us respect Life and Death on this holiest of days with a show. A god and a mortal, bound by the same desire to shed blood; come now. Decre whether you fight to live or die. Do you fight for Life or Death? I will honor your words and your desires. Come.”

  Maia does not know it, but Homer does,his bsted friends had all prayed, they had all crossed their fingers, bowed their heads to the floor, confessed to priests, they all begged;

  ‘Do not fight Homer, our friend.’

  There is silence. Deafening silence. And then Homer stands. The crowds turn to stare. Life and Death both stare, Life clearly amused, Death displeased. This is-

  It’s heresy, pin and simple.But no-one dares speak, for War could cut them all down.

  Homer exhales.“To the death. I’ll finally rid this world of you.”

  War lowers their sword and ughs, hand still extended, cwed fingers of their gauntlet now invitingly twitching. Come here, my child.

  Come here and die.

  “Let us give this event the climax it deserves, then. Come, Homer. Come to me.”

  And all Maia could do was watch as her friend started his walk towards the ptform. Priests were beside themselves, Life and Death both backed off from their ptform. No matter what happened, this day of rebirth would go down in infamy.

  Blood would be shed, instead of returned,a life cimed on the altar where life ought to be reborn;

  the woman beloved by Death crosses her palms, and prays.