ʀᴇᴘᴇɴᴛ: ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴏʀ ᴇxᴘʀᴇꜱꜱ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴍᴏʀꜱᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴡʀᴏɴɢᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ꜱɪɴ
"War, famine, pestilence, and death—what do these four things have in common?"
There was a serpentine hiss from the shadows, a pair of slitted eyes emerging from the abyss before the body to which they belonged. The lion—were they a lion?—slid his tongue across his protruding canines. They were stained with the remnants of spilled blood and torn cartilage, most likely belonging to kin. As he stalked toward you, the muscles beneath the thick pelt rippled with every step, a testament to his power. His fur was perfect, with no scar or blemish to be seen. Almost like he'd been plucked from the Earth and created into whatever beast he was now.
You ponder his question for a moment, feeling the innermost beams of your ribs quake in sync with his heavy steps. The feral beast circled you like a shark would its meal, pausing at your blind spot before rumbling impatiently. "I will tell you, cub. War, famine, pestilence, and death are harbingers of destruction and signify the ultimate judgment. Judgment of all that roam the Mortal Realms." He snickers, the sound like glass shards hitting rock. "It's inevitable. One day, they will take the world and make every living thing their slaves, prisoners of endless suffering."
You glance over your shoulder to meet his gaze but he's already on the other side, sniffing your mane with a disdainful grunt. "And despite knowing this, these so-called lions waste their lives and throw away the beautiful futures of their pride. They take it for granted. I almost hope that they're claimed by death Herself."
He blows out a sigh dripping with feigned concern. He looks regretful that he spilled such a dark opinion about the other lions, but there was something in the way he tilted his head toward the sun, letting the light reflect off his fangs, that makes you think he doesn't care much for them. Any of them, in fact. Who even is this lion?
He steps forward as if reading your mind and inserts himself in your personal space. His eyes trail down your contour before returning to meet your gaze. "So, cub, are you one of those monarchs who waste away their pride and take it for granted? Because you know what happens to those that do?" He leans forward as if sharing a conspiratorial secret. His breath reeks of rot.
"I eat them."
You stumble back, every filament in your body going taut. What did he say? He eats other lions he deems unworthy? You've heard of cannibalistic lions before but never would you have guessed you would come face-to-face with one right now. And suddenly, you feel it. Death. You feel Her whispering sweet nothings in your ear, her gentle touch trailing up your tail, spine, and neck. She's here, waiting to claim your soul as this lion might claim your body.
But instead of leaping forward and impaling those terrifying mesmerizing fangs through your skull, he laughs. It's guttural and raspy like his laugh has been unused to the point of collecting dust. He finds all of this so funny, doesn't he? Your fear so palpable in your eyes is his jest, the punchline of some sick joke.
"Why so scared, cub? You're not like the others, you aren't deserving of such a painful death. Not yet, at least. Do not let yourself turn into the mundane, shameful lions that now rest in my body forever. Become a leader that won't need to worry about me in the shadows."
"Who... who are you?"
The beast turned away with a graceful flick of his mane before tossing you one last look.
"I am the one who turns those away from sin. I am Repentance."
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