In a kingdom out of legend, a civilization of people lived and thrived, their empire one of the greatest in history. The city gleamed white beneath the sun, every block of limestone whispering prayers to gods that no longer answered.
A woman betrothed to a great warrior of the empire was left to look after their household in his time of absence. Away at a battle for an allied nation, the woman's days became lonesome, filled with prayers for the sweet return of her beloved. She, like the other women of the empire, fetched water from the wells that sat in the territory's stead. But each day, her trek brought the reminder of her life's futility in the form of a marble statue—a depiction of the god she served and prayed to. All she wanted was for her hardship to end and to lead some semblance of a life forged by true meaning.
The last to fill her pail that day, the woman sat against the well's wall and slowly drifted into thoughts of depression. Soon thereafter, tears began to flow, but in her time of need she turned once again to her God high above. She silently prayed, the hardest yet she ever prayed, but there was no sign she would receive any such reprieve.
"Woman of grief, lay your hands at rest. I tell you this, for I know the one you pray to, and he will not hear your prayers," A voice from the ether said, startling the woman by how low and close it sounded to be.
The sky blackened. The winds howled with hatred of the world's beauty. Death laid its claim on the earth.
The field in which the well was situated fell ill and receded, dying in mere moments. The coarseness of the grass felt like barbs against the woman's skin and clothing, trying in vain to hook her to the ground. The woman jumped from beside the well and turned to face the graveyard that had taken over the world. Steadying herself despite her fear, she saw a man sitting on the well's edge.
One-winged was his nature. His skin was whiter than ivory. An overcoat of black was thrown onto his back, while a medallion of lustrous purple weighed upon his nape. His hair was longer than that of the woman, with a large chain clamp bound to his neck. Fewer chain links flowed off his appendages, swaying in the ethereal black winds. Long pants adorned him, baggy and slackened, lending a disposition of chaos that only demise could carry when it walked. His irises were blacker than the void of the cosmos.
"It can be quite a pain to get him to do anything. You shouldn't expect an answer from him; he never does unless it intrigues him enough to pull him out of his boredom."
Clasping her hands close to her chest, feeling the silk-like nature of her garment, the trembling woman replied, "Who—who are you? Your form…it lends you a likeness of the one that our priest condemns. The One Unforgiven, the one—"
"What you call me matters little, I know my friends above tend to give me names that tell of my wickedness…but what If I told you they were just as bad?" He replied to her, as a few crows left his coat, as one landed on his outstretched hand. "If not worse…"
The woman stepped back from him, at first wanting to run from the dark deity. But his words—they felt so tempting. He calmed her like a tide meant to wash away fears of any mortal. It took her own fears and gave her ease, reprieve for the first time in her life.
"Is it not an interesting world we live in, dear?" he asked, piquing her interest. "Mortals wish for peace, hardships taken from them so their life is bliss. Yet gods envy their determination, some even wishing to be like you out of boredom of their perfection. Such a conundrum, is it not?'
Stepping closer to the well, the woman hunched over the edge to get nearer to the man. The man then leaned over and caressed her face. She seems entranced by his harrowing yet handsome figure.
"I have an answer that will sweeten both sides, but my friends don't want to hear it. But you…you listened, and though I am not the God you wished for—I will be the one to give you a part in what you wish for. All you need to do is show me I am correct about your kind…"
And just like that, he was gone. The woman was left with her thoughts, and the world changed back as if nothing had happened.
But like a ghostly message, his voice continued after.
"And pass your trial when it comes afoot."
*******
Weeks passed since she spoke to the man; she tried to find more information about him. But each priest, familial member or even oracle had told her the same thing. She had been spoken to by a Kakodaimon—a malevolent one that once held a place in the pantheon of gods they served. He took many names. The One Unforgiven was his moniker amongst all, but some that followed his covenant called him the Man that Crows Follow. For the day after meeting him, a crow would always follow that person. And thereafter, tragedy would befall them.
The woman had seen such a crow, terrified of the day when the tragedy would come. Little did she know it was not to befall her alone, but the entire race of humanity. For on the day she no longer saw the crow was the same day that her world crumbled. The empire she lived in burned and smoldered, as the embers of war far off had now reached their doorstep.
Scrambling for survival, the woman ran through the streets of the emulated empire. She went past the statue of her god, broken and destroyed, reduced to dust in the soot-filled wind. Lime mortars, heated with brimstone forged from hell, rained death from above. Yet, by divine intervention, such an instrument of chaos did not graze or strike her. The sound of lightning, both gold and black, echoed across the sky as the soldiers fought below, tearing each other to pieces. The streaks of gold and black lightning that came from the heavens crashed down into the heart of the city, right at the feet of the woman.
Staggered and fallen, the descent of the force had not badly hurt her. But upon viewing what had caused it, assuming it to be another mortar, the woman was shocked to see who lay in the crater before her. The One Unforgiven and another similar to himself in regalia clothing lay deadlocked in a stalemate of power, the other deities' clothing having a gold and white tint with electricity flowing through his veins and being. Both their skins were bruised, slashed and bloody. Their garments shredded and gashed like cut paper. Their weapons had been scattered to the ends of the crater near the woman, resting quietly at her feet.
Upon seeing her, the two stopped their struggle for dominance, realizing the magnitude of the situation. The One Unforgiven simply stared at the woman, and she knew that this was the time for her to prove him right or wrong. The other god had no clue of who this was, nor cared to know, as this was his empire and he was the god they served.
"Woman! To me, my bolt of lightning I ask! It is time I end this fool for all that he has done! Upon my name as Zeus, for this stain upon my kin, he shall pay with his life! This I command as your God! Lend me thy aid!"
The woman was frozen in fear. She looked at the two battling God's unable to so much comprehend the magnitude of the situation before her.
"Woman, are you daffed! To me at once with my weapon so I may end this fouler!" Zeus called.
But the One Unforgiven only looked at the woman, extending a hand in her direction. The gesture perplexed Zeus, but even so, not a single word left The One Unforgiven. He didn't demand that she bring forth his weapon, nor did he make appeals to his authority for his claim as a God who had given her aid. He simply offered her a hand, as he had given to her before. This was her trial, her choice to make. For the world to stay the same or for a new order to be embraced.
She made her decision.
She took hold of Zeus's weapon; the mere holding of the divine weapon burned her skin and remade it anew. Zeus had thought he had won, laughing at The One Unforgiven. But as the woman neared the two battered gods, and her face became known to Zeus, terror enraptured the god for the first time in his life. The One Unforgiven didn't laugh, but mumbled a few words.
"She has chosen her side. This act against the gods will be the basis of what I create. Know Zeus, you and those like you brought this upon yourselves. You wished to be like them, and to them I give back what you did not. Rest assured, however, you will live on eternally in my new system."
The woman plunged Zeus's weapon into his chest, and the covenant was made. The One Unforgiven did the rest with his new bride at the end. From Zeus's soul and ichor, like all other gods who were slain, new forms and purpose were given to the gods. A part of a new system that gave divinity into the hands of mankind.