"Yet the powers of the minor gods…" Rhuven began, "…they never truly died out. For after those four terrible years, people with the powers of the mini gods returned."
"Father! Father, look what I've carved!"
The little boy stepped proudly into the room, his hands stretched out in front of him. In them he held a roughly carved wooden figure... a man with broad shoulders and a notch in his face. His father.
The mother looked up and smiled. "You made that all by yourself?"
"For Papa," the boy said.
The father looked down at the figure. For a brief moment, something like surprise lay in his eyes.
"Oh… you did that real—"
In the middle of the word, his expression changed. In an instant.
His features hardened, the amazement twisted into a distorted grin.
"What the hell do I care about this?" he suddenly laughed. "Who are you little brats anyway?!"
The mother froze. "What's wrong with you…?"
The man grabbed the empty bottle on the table, lifted it, shook it once. Nothing. With an angry curse, he hurled it to the floor where it shattered.
"Bring me more alcohol, you damn woman!"
Immediately, the woman pulled the boy to her. They began to tremble.
"Did you not hear me…?" the father growled. His voice sounded strange, distorted. Then he stretched out his hand.
A glaring flare burst from his palm.
Flames shot out of it — not like normal fire, but unnatural, forced, fueled by the suddenly awakened powers of the mini gods within his body.
The heat slammed into the mother.
A short, piercing scream.
Then... nothing anymore.
The wood on the floor smoked quietly. A biting smell hung in the air. The mother, who had been trembling only moments before, did not move anymore. Her arms lay limp, and the child had slipped from her grip and lay crying beside her on the floor.
The father let his hand fall.
"Stupid damn woman…"
Then he looked down at the boy, his eyes empty, burning with rage.
"And you, brat! BRING ME ALCOHOL, GODDAMN IT!"
"No more than a week lay between the death of the last bearer of the minor gods' power — with Lum and the holy garments — and the appearance of these new, corrupted bearers," Rhuven said."They reappeared almost immediately. Without guidance. Without limits. Without protection."
He lifted his gaze.
"These… evil bearers of the minor gods' power, as we call them, still appear to this day."
He took a short breath before continuing:
"We of the Black Synod have been trying ever since to prevent as many of them as possible from causing harm. But… we have only been partially successful."
"The Black Synod?"