Scamp hurries down the hall to Afia’s room. There had been a delivery of chickens as an offering to the Temple of Victory, and things were getting messy.

  He comes skidding to a halt in front of the door, smming his hand on it to halt his progress before his nose is intimately acquainted with wood and inid gold.

  His eyes widen as he realizes he is looking into a blurry expanse of blue. He backs up a step or two so that his eyes may behold the paper rather than leave his shes to flirt with it.

  Shimmering azul paper with bck ink combine to form a most important looking message.

  Announcement

  I am sorry to inform you that Afia is no longer among us as a lesser Holy Imanjar.

  Any concerns may be brought to me directly.

  Goddess be with us,

  Head Holy Imanjar, Vaza.

  B-but what about the chickens! Afia used to arrange all of the offerings. She knew where they needed to be pced, who to contact, what to write in the thank you letters…

  Scamp rushes out again and runs smack into Rafinel, standing stiff as a board.

  This isn’t the first time such a thing had happened. He did always scamper about, thoughts swirling as quick as legs and usually on a completely different topic. Once, Scamp had even knocked the wind completely out of Austran. The old Temple Keeper had been hemming and hawing for days after that.

  “Oops, sorry Uncle Raf. Whatcha looking at?”

  Rafinel gnces down at Scamp. “It’s the stairs…“ he slowly responds, trembling hands grasping his walking staff so tightly the tips of his fingers appeared whiter than chicken feathers.

  Chicken feathers! Scamp starts. He had almost forgotten again! He always did.

  Scamp sidesteps past Rafinel. “Oh, you mean the chickens! It’s awfully dirty but I can clean up our stairs faster than a farmer could clean a chicken coop. I have to talk you about Afia though—“

  What he sees next makes all thoughts of Afia flee his mind. Actually, all thoughts do. He stands in horror, his forever moving body completely still. He lets out a soft whimper.

  Raggedly cleaven necks drip blood down the Temple stairs. The pile of corresponding heads stare bnkly forward, beaks agape. What had been live, squawking, lovely chickens were reduced to a barbaric dispy of flesh, blood, and gore.

  Clean white feathers are now stained with blood and dirt like angel wings sullied by the devil.

  A man steps forward wiping the blood off of a short dagger. The devil had not gone far, it seems.

  “The name’s Magpie. I am here to discuss some matters of importance with Vaza.” He smiles, eyes lighting up with a mischievous glow. “While I was waiting, I took care of those ahead of me in line. I hope the cooks won’t mind that I didn’t feather them first.”

  What kind of monster would just… kill like that?! Even if they were going to eat those chickens ter, they wouldn’t have been tortured like that! The looks on their inhuman faces betray a soul crushing fear. Each head bears a visage more terrified than the st, having watched more and more of their brethren brutally sin before them.

  Scamp runs through the path of blood and past Magpie to the street, where he promptly empties the contents of his stomach.

  Completely unbothered by the sound of a young boy retching, Magpie walks forward. “I will see myself to Vaza’s office I suppose.” He whistles a dirge as he continues on his merry way, bloody footprints and all.

  After that horrendous cult meeting, sying a few dumb, panicked birds had greatly improved Magpie’s mood.

  And then that horrified look on that young d’s face had been absolutely delightful! He reminded Magpie of the sheltered schoolboys he would scare with pig’s blood and cow brains.

  But then that reminded Magpie of working on the farm, of meeting Varnika… all those pleasant memories since corrupted by the present day. Oh, how time made all things worse, including one’s self.

  Time to see Vaza. His …feelings… were growing harder and harder to conceal by the day. Luckily, he can blow off some steam ter with more homunculi. How lovely. Magpie giggles to himself.

  As Magpie moves out of earshot, Rafinel finally hurries to comfort Scamp. Perhaps, perhaps he should check in on Vaza ter as well. Such behavior as Magpie dispyed was not normal in these (retively) peaceful times.

  Rafinel had known some Holy Imanjar that hunted creatures to protect vilges, such as those serving local Guardian Spirits of Mountain Temples, but they had all revered life more than the ordinary person. Taking life had given them a greater appreciation of its importance.

  Magpie’s behavior, on the other hand, would not be out of character for the vilins in those penny novels Perfidence likes to read.

  Not to mention, Scamp had mentioned something about Afia. Once the boy calms down and cleans himself up, he ought to follow up on that matter as well.

  Rafinel sighs. One step at a time.

  “There, there. It’s going to be alright. You’re safe here with me. I’ll protect you.”

  “Mum… they were red and dripping like Mum…” Scamper shakes a little with a choked back sob.

  “Uncle Raf is here. You don’t have to worry about anything. Come now, I’ll visit the Temple’s graveyard with you tomorrow.”

  Scamp nods his head.

  “Alright, thatta boy. Let’s go give these chickens a proper sendoff, okay? We will make sure they can rest in peace.”

  Rafinel guides Scamp past the brutal mound and to the shed where they keep the Temple’s firewood.

  Unlocking the door, Raf turns to Scamp.“You get some kindling and wood for a funeral pyre. In the meantime, I will go get a white cloth for a funeral shroud.”

  “Yes, sir!” Scamp replies with a little too much force, betraying his active effort to appear alright.

  All he has to do is keep busy and he will be fine. It was what he has been doing ever since he had become a Holy Imanjar. No, since long before then. Since the day his father stopped being his father.

  There was no use thinking about it. He must move on, think about other things, keep moving.

  If he just keeps moving, the past will never be able to catch up. The Goddess had answered his wish and locked up that monster for him, made that thing’s guilt known through Her divine oracle.

  Besides, he has Uncle Raf and Auntie Perfidence and Big Sis Afia— wait no more Afia— but he still has all that he could ever want. Just don’t think about Mum or the chickens or Mum…