Vulcan Regis

What is a life worth? A soul?

For some, they will trade it away for comfort after a tragedy. Grief stricken and broken, they wander into an abandoned chapel demanding answers from those they have doomed. Others will fall into greed, grasping for things far out of their reach. They’re careless, drowning in acid and vitriol as they wish for the impossible.

And if the gods they forsaken are incapable of gifting them such things? They fall into a fury. They lash out, shattering whatever semblance of peace the kitsune might have scrapped together in their forgotten little chapel.

Vulcan’s favorite are the ones that come by, lost and hopeless. Looking for a purpose but rejecting everything that is offered. The ones that wish to be handed all the answers without putting a lick of effort in, but refuse to acknowledge the ones that aided them.

But all of them will stop by, anxious and falling apart at the seams. They will come with unseeing eyes and empty hands and ask for all of the stars in the world. Vulcan will simply smile and offer a star. A shining symbol of hope in this desolate world.

Then they leave. Giddy on the promise of something better. Of holding that small star in their hands as they imagine the world changing for them. They will forget who gave them that star, disregard the existence of a higher power and one more star will fall from the sky until one day the night sky will be a blank slate of nothingness.

It’s the sad reality of forgotten gods. A destiny that they claim is unavoidable. Simply the world moving on, the humans leaving the nest and flourishing without the all seeing eyes lurking in the heavens.

Vulcan flips through the names listed in the book of blessings. Some grayed out and lost, but most still thriving without a care in the world. Pages upon pages filled with those that came to the Night chapel to request a star and then to leave without a look back.

Night has destroyed herself, plucking out each star as she blesses the undeserving and they send not a prayer her way. Not a single thought.

“How many souls would you require to release the Seraphim?” Vulcan asks, standing at the end of the world. The abyss yawns before him, an ever ending darkness that curls upon itself.

There’s never a response, but why would the God of Gods deem a lowly kitsune worth his time? It’d be easier if the Gods were willing to stand for themselves, or if the kitsune were at least willing to take a stand.

They weren’t. Vulcan had stopped by the Sea Chapel. Spoke to an old friend and felt the claws of rage rake across his skin. Blood spilling in the ocean and a demand for Vulcan to leave echoed over the roaring waves.

Your ridiculous pettiness is going to do more harm than good, Salem snapped.

“I’m willing to offer every blessed soul,” Vulcan says.

The Abyss blinks back, a rolling crimson eyes that only flashes for a moment before vanishing.

“All I request is the cage to the Seraphim be left unlocked. I will handle everything else, including corralling them back into their confines after they have lost their purpose.”

A grin, a glint of teeth. The Abyss rumbles a cackling laughter. Magma spills across rotting rock. “Lost little foxes should not be making deals they cannot keep.”

Vulcan tears out a page, methodical and careful before dropping it into the abyss. A harrowing scream, a twist of lives lost and souls consumed. “I have never made a promise I could not keep.”

The edge of the world trembles, rock falling into the abyss as claws crept up and made their home. An grinning maw escaped from the darkness, dozens of eyes blinking at the kitsune. “And how do you intend to cage the Seraphim afterwards? Your Gods are mere shadows of themselves and the kitsunes are dying off. The wandering soul of Sea has recently crashed into the after life, and I’m sure she won’t be the last.”

Vulcan bows. “If I fail,” he wouldn’t, “then consider the entire mortal realm as recompense for my failure. I’ve been told the Abyss always hungers and the Seraphim sound like the perfect reason to end the world.”

The words are irrelevant. With the Seraphim will come fear. Fear will lead to prayers, to the humans looking for a higher power to save them. Prayers bring strength. The Seraphim might destroy most of the mortal realm, but those that survive will not forget about their saviors. They will not take stars from an empty sky and forget about the abyss they left behind.

They will be grateful.