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“Monster,” the eldest centaur whispered as he shielded his eyes with his hand. The black fire around Palan’s body burned brighter, the heat withering the grass on the ground. The centaurs who had their eyes closed deactivated their powers and took steps back. The elder that berated Cherri swallowed even though his mouth was dry. The eldest centaur’s brow furrowed as his knees buckled and his belly touched the ground. His head lowered, his gaze fixating on Palan’s feet. Sweat dripped from his neck but evaporated before touching the ground. The blue connections linking him to his subordinates faded away. “We yield to you.”
“But, Archbishop, this is our holy ground,” the centaur who had created the metallic hand said. Palan turned his head and smiled at him. The centaur clenched his hands as he met Palan’s gaze, his tail swishing back and forth. His front hoof pawed at the ground.
“Stand down,” the eldest said. His forehead touched the browning grass in front of himself. “I beseech you. Please, stop your flames.” The circle of withering grass was growing larger and larger as the heat from the flames spread out. A few webs above Palan’s head had already burst into flames and disintegrated, leaving nothing behind.
The standing centaurs retreated behind the archbishop and knelt as well. Cherri’s gaze shifted between Palan’s group and her elders. She bit her lower lip as her weight shifted from side to side. Should she kneel with her tribesmen or should she stay with the demon who kidnapped her? She wasn’t important enough to associate with the religious figureheads even though she was the tribe leader’s daughter. But at the same time, she wasn’t exactly a part of Palan’s party. A sigh escaped from her lips. She wished she had a coin to flip to decide for her.
Raea pinched Palan’s side. “Quit using my mana,” she said and snorted. Although they had gotten to a point where it wasn’t strenuous to use each other’s powers, she still felt a sense of discomfort like an itch on her toe when she was wearing shoes that couldn’t be easily removed. “And I didn’t think you’d be one to play around with potential threats. I thought you’d finish them off quickly.”
Palan shrugged as the flames dispersed. “Maybe it’s because I haven’t felt danger ever since I became an archdemon. These centaurs?” He gestured towards the bowing halflings. “They’re like goats to me—completely harmless. And, like goats, they became subservient quite easily,” he said and walked over to the archbishop, squatting down. “You knew your situation was hopeless. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” the archbishop said without raising his head. A slight tremor ran through his body. “We have spent years cultivating this garden. It doesn’t make sense to have all our work destroyed because of a single lapse in judgment. We were unable to suppress you even when we started our union.”
“Smart little goats,” Palan said and smiled as he stood up. He walked over to Cory’s unconscious body and picked it up. He tossed the harpy in front of the centaur. “Now heal her.”
The archbishop lifted his torso and nodded. “I understand, honored one,” he said. A ball of glowing white light formed in between his hands as he held them in front of his chest. His hands separated, causing the light to elongate like taffy before falling on top of Cory. Her flesh squirmed as her broken wings shifted back into place, the cut on her head healing. The centaur didn’t even glance at Cory as she started to stir, keeping his gaze on Palan. “The honored one said he was looking for someone?”
“The tribe leader,” Palan said. “I need to have a few words with him.”
The archbishop’s brow furrowed as he recalled Palan’s previous description—perverted tribe leader. Was Mathias perverted? Perhaps a little. The centaur nodded. “I will take you to his quarters,” he said. “But I don’t know if he’s there or not. Often times, he accompanies the commander as a bodyguard or defends the entrance to the underground world.”
“Well,” Palan said and placed his hand on Cherri’s shoulder, causing her to stiffen. “She says the commander’s dead.”
“Dead?” the archbishop asked. The centaurs behind him started to murmur. He stood up and headed towards the tunnel that Palan had entered from. “I see. Is the situation outside chaotic?”
“Totally chaotic. Mostly because of him,” Justitia muttered. She shook her head, and her gaze landed on Cherri. Justitia pursed her lips and flicked the centaur’s nose. Something about it irked her. Cherri yelped and covered her face with her hand. The corner of her eyes moistened as she glared at the grinning angel.
“What was that for!?” Cherri asked and stamped her feet.
“Shh.” Justitia brought her finger to her lips. She followed after Raea and Palan who were walking alongside the archbishop. Cory was stumbling along behind them, bleary-eyed. “The adults are trying to talk.”
The archbishop shot a glance at Cherri and Justitia as he continued to walk forwards. His hooves avoided every puddle of poison on the path even though he wasn’t watching where he was going. “Why was the tribe leader’s daughter with you?” he asked Palan.
“I needed a guide, and she volunteered”—
“I did not!”
—“and brought us here,” Palan said. “She did say this place was forbidden, but why? It’s just a tree and some grass.”
The archbishop’s expression turned ugly. “The holy ground is more than just a garden,” he said. “It is a place of communion with our lord. Our lord resides in nature, in grass, in trees, in flowers and weeds. He lives in the sunlight, the moonlight, and the stars. He belongs to earth, belongs to water, belongs to wind. But he’s a part of all of these. With only one—the earth—we are unable to communicate with him, which is why we had to create a proper environment for him to traverse. Unclean or impure beings taint our connection with him. This is why we forbid nonbelievers and outsiders from entering. The poison on this path is the filth and toxins we’ve expunged from the holy grounds. I suspect more will spill out because of your visit.”
“Right,” Palan said. Poison splattered on the walls as he stepped into the puddles. “Sure.”
“Angels,” Raea said before the archbishop could say anything. “What happens to them in your religion? Like after they die.”
“Like every living creature, they are judged,” the centaur said as he used a grass square to wipe away the poison on his legs. “The worthy ones ascend to heaven. The unworthy ones fall to hell. In our lord’s eyes, all things are equal. The outer shape that houses the soul is irrelevant.” He glanced at Cory. “Unless you’re a harpy. They go straight to hell.”
“Fuck you too,” Cory said and snorted. She hopped onto Cherri’s back and rubbed her own head with her wing. “I know you didn’t cure my headache on purpose, bastard. I hope you go to hell for being petty.”