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Description
The general stood before the child he and the priests had invoked. They thought they had been prepared for anything when they called upon the god of war to seek his blessing. They had prepared lavish gifts to win its favor, arms and armor of the finest craftsmanship, piles of gold and jewels to symbolize the spoils of war, a bountiful feast made by the finest chefs in the land. They had expected a massive giant of a man, all fire and fury, but all of that seemed… inappropriate now.

The child was small and emaciated, caked in a thick layer of dirt and dried blood, wearing nothing but rags that barely preserved the child’s dignity before the crowd of onlookers. Nothing about the child suggested divinity, save for the black vulture wings on their back, far too large for the small frame. Yet despite this humble appearance, everyone in the room felt the unmistakable feeling of being in the presence of the divine, none doubted that this was indeed a god they had invoked. Yet how were they to respond to such a jarring break from their expectations?

The general, with his sharp mind honed by military training to adapt to the unforeseen, was the first to acclimate to this unusual turn of events. Kneeling with respect, he bowed his head to the child god and spoke “oh god of war, I have come to…”

“I know what you seek mortal” the child said in a voice that both was and wasn’t its own. The voice was weak and hoarse like that of the sickly child… but carried with it a sense of authority and power that simply did not belong. The jarring dissonance cut the general short, catching him by surprise once again. “You shall not have it” the child god spoke.

The general’s blood ran cold, they had prepared to seek the god’s blessing for the coming crusades, but before he could even plead their case they were being shunned? Such an omen would spell ruin for his armies for certain. “Y-your holiness please” the general spoke again “my people are about to embark on a righteous war. A just war. A war that will bring prosperity and happiness to many. Won’t you please consider…”

The general’s voice faltered as the child’s oversized wings bristled. He could not read the god’s expression, it was not anger or indignation, but it was not a positive emotion either.

“You are blind mortal, you understand not the words that you speak” the god spoke, its voice filled with disdain “you shall not have what you seek from me.”

The general began to sweat, what could he say? What could he do? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself, he would not give in so easily. He had to win this child’s favor at any cost, for his king, and for his people. He opened his eyes and looked upon the god, but there was not a child there anymore, but a decrepit old woman. Before he could question this change, knowledge flowed into him, and he suddenly knew her story.

The woman had once had a husband, a son, and two grandsons, all had been called away to the war, none had returned. Her grief made every day a burden, and she was far too old for time to heal her wounds, she would die in solitude and misery, all for the promise of a bright future she would never see, and could never appreciate even if she did.

The general had no time to process this knowledge before the god shifted again, this time a young man, his body riddled with fatal wounds. He had been a zealous soldier, proud to fight for his kingdom. Youthful and eager, the boy had his whole life ahead of him, a sweetheart back home he’d sworn to return to, a promising career as a craftsman, he would have achieved great things and lived a very happy life, but that was not to be. He was dying, and the last emotion he felt was an overwhelming sense of despair and grief over what could have been.

The god was a young girl now, a noose around her neck. She had done nothing wrong, and she didn’t understand any of this. Why had the soldiers killed her parents? Her baby brother slaughtered in his crib? They had taken her away, stripped off her clothes and… what had she done to anger the gods? What cruel fate had dictated this be her lot in life? She could bear it no longer.

The general fell backwards, trying to avert his eyes from the god to no avail, as he crawled back away from the god it shifted again. A destitute man now, his limbs crippled by injuries from the war. When the army had no more use for him, they tossed him into the streets. Traumatized by the horrors he’d seen, unable to work for a living, he starved on the streets of a city far from home, desperate, afraid, and alone.

A man once promised honor and glory took his life to atone for the deeds that he’d committed… a young maiden sacrificed to bring fortune in battle… a mother dying giving birth to the child of the soldier that had raped her… a father watching his family starve as their food stores had been requisitioned for the war effort… a child covered in burns that rendered them barely recognizable as human, acquired from when the city had been pillaged… The god shifted again and again before the general, hundreds, thousands of times. Each visage flooded the general with the knowledge of their stories, complete with the despair and rage and grief they felt.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the god returned to its original child form, but it was not the same. It towered over the general now, over twenty feet tall, staring down at the cowering human with haunted eyes, eyes the general now realized had been shared by all the people the god had shown him. Eyes that were dead inside, broken, bloodshot, stained with tears, and cold. In that moment, he saw the faces of every visage the god had shown him at once, all staring down at him with those same eyes.

“I know what you seek, but you will not ask it of me” the god said “rise mortal, and speak again of the righteousness of your war, the happiness it will bring, ask for the blessing you seek not of me, but of them.”

The general looked up at the child god… but it wasn’t a child god was it? Such a description hardly fit what he saw now. This god was no child, it was ancient and terrible, old as mankind itself. This god had no name from any myths or stories the general had been taught. This was not Ares, or Athena, or Mars, or any such idealized entity. It was simply War.

The general looked into the eyes of War, the eyes of all the innocents who would suffer, now was his chance to ask for the god’s blessing… it would be now or never, he knew this… but he could not speak. The words would not come no matter how he tried to call them, his throat tightened and his tongue rebelled. Every fiber of his being rejected his efforts, for what mortal could look into the eyes of that many suffering innocents and still proclaim that they were righteous? Still claim that war would bring them happiness? If such a mortal existed, the general was not that man, nor would he wish to be.

The general lowered his gaze to the floor, unable to bear looking at War any longer. His body trembled, tears flowed unbidden from his eyes, eyes that now mirrored the broken eyes of War. He had thought himself a great and powerful man, but in this moment, he was no stronger than the child War had first appeared to him as.

War nodded “I know what you sought mortal, you shall not have it, and now you understand why. Do not call upon me again” it said. Then without another word, it folded its wings around itself and faded from sight, leaving the broken general, the horrified priests, and the tributes they had prepared behind.

A long silence fell over the temple, no one spoke a word, some priests solemnly cleaned up the altar from the invocation ritual, but none met each other’s eyes or looked upon the general. It was only once they were finished that one dared break the silence with a question. “So… general… what now? Are we still going to war?”

The general was quiet for an unbearably long time before he stood, his hands still shaking from what he had experienced. His mind reeled with the visions that had been thrust upon him, but he took a deep breath to steady himself. He looked to the priest who had spoken, and the room grew tense in anticipation of his words.

And the general, for better or worse, gave his answer.

Description
The general stood before the child he and the priests had invoked. They thought they had been prepared for anything when they called upon the god of war to seek his blessing. They had prepared lavish gifts to win its favor, arms and armor of the finest craftsmanship, piles of gold and jewels to symbolize the spoils of war, a bountiful feast made by the finest chefs in the land. They had expected a massive giant of a man, all fire and fury, but all of that seemed… inappropriate now.

The child was small and emaciated, caked in a thick layer of dirt and dried blood, wearing nothing but rags that barely preserved the child’s dignity before the crowd of onlookers. Nothing about the child suggested divinity, save for the black vulture wings on their back, far too large for the small frame. Yet despite this humble appearance, everyone in the room felt the unmistakable feeling of being in the presence of the divine, none doubted that this was indeed a god they had invoked. Yet how were they to respond to such a jarring break from their expectations?

The general, with his sharp mind honed by military training to adapt to the unforeseen, was the first to acclimate to this unusual turn of events. Kneeling with respect, he bowed his head to the child god and spoke “oh god of war, I have come to…”

“I know what you seek mortal” the child said in a voice that both was and wasn’t its own. The voice was weak and hoarse like that of the sickly child… but carried with it a sense of authority and power that simply did not belong. The jarring dissonance cut the general short, catching him by surprise once again. “You shall not have it” the child god spoke.

The general’s blood ran cold, they had prepared to seek the god’s blessing for the coming crusades, but before he could even plead their case they were being shunned? Such an omen would spell ruin for his armies for certain. “Y-your holiness please” the general spoke again “my people are about to embark on a righteous war. A just war. A war that will bring prosperity and happiness to many. Won’t you please consider…”

The general’s voice faltered as the child’s oversized wings bristled. He could not read the god’s expression, it was not anger or indignation, but it was not a positive emotion either.

“You are blind mortal, you understand not the words that you speak” the god spoke, its voice filled with disdain “you shall not have what you seek from me.”

The general began to sweat, what could he say? What could he do? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself, he would not give in so easily. He had to win this child’s favor at any cost, for his king, and for his people. He opened his eyes and looked upon the god, but there was not a child there anymore, but a decrepit old woman. Before he could question this change, knowledge flowed into him, and he suddenly knew her story.

The woman had once had a husband, a son, and two grandsons, all had been called away to the war, none had returned. Her grief made every day a burden, and she was far too old for time to heal her wounds, she would die in solitude and misery, all for the promise of a bright future she would never see, and could never appreciate even if she did.

The general had no time to process this knowledge before the god shifted again, this time a young man, his body riddled with fatal wounds. He had been a zealous soldier, proud to fight for his kingdom. Youthful and eager, the boy had his whole life ahead of him, a sweetheart back home he’d sworn to return to, a promising career as a craftsman, he would have achieved great things and lived a very happy life, but that was not to be. He was dying, and the last emotion he felt was an overwhelming sense of despair and grief over what could have been.

The god was a young girl now, a noose around her neck. She had done nothing wrong, and she didn’t understand any of this. Why had the soldiers killed her parents? Her baby brother slaughtered in his crib? They had taken her away, stripped off her clothes and… what had she done to anger the gods? What cruel fate had dictated this be her lot in life? She could bear it no longer.

The general fell backwards, trying to avert his eyes from the god to no avail, as he crawled back away from the god it shifted again. A destitute man now, his limbs crippled by injuries from the war. When the army had no more use for him, they tossed him into the streets. Traumatized by the horrors he’d seen, unable to work for a living, he starved on the streets of a city far from home, desperate, afraid, and alone.

A man once promised honor and glory took his life to atone for the deeds that he’d committed… a young maiden sacrificed to bring fortune in battle… a mother dying giving birth to the child of the soldier that had raped her… a father watching his family starve as their food stores had been requisitioned for the war effort… a child covered in burns that rendered them barely recognizable as human, acquired from when the city had been pillaged… The god shifted again and again before the general, hundreds, thousands of times. Each visage flooded the general with the knowledge of their stories, complete with the despair and rage and grief they felt.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the god returned to its original child form, but it was not the same. It towered over the general now, over twenty feet tall, staring down at the cowering human with haunted eyes, eyes the general now realized had been shared by all the people the god had shown him. Eyes that were dead inside, broken, bloodshot, stained with tears, and cold. In that moment, he saw the faces of every visage the god had shown him at once, all staring down at him with those same eyes.

“I know what you seek, but you will not ask it of me” the god said “rise mortal, and speak again of the righteousness of your war, the happiness it will bring, ask for the blessing you seek not of me, but of them.”

The general looked up at the child god… but it wasn’t a child god was it? Such a description hardly fit what he saw now. This god was no child, it was ancient and terrible, old as mankind itself. This god had no name from any myths or stories the general had been taught. This was not Ares, or Athena, or Mars, or any such idealized entity. It was simply War.

The general looked into the eyes of War, the eyes of all the innocents who would suffer, now was his chance to ask for the god’s blessing… it would be now or never, he knew this… but he could not speak. The words would not come no matter how he tried to call them, his throat tightened and his tongue rebelled. Every fiber of his being rejected his efforts, for what mortal could look into the eyes of that many suffering innocents and still proclaim that they were righteous? Still claim that war would bring them happiness? If such a mortal existed, the general was not that man, nor would he wish to be.

The general lowered his gaze to the floor, unable to bear looking at War any longer. His body trembled, tears flowed unbidden from his eyes, eyes that now mirrored the broken eyes of War. He had thought himself a great and powerful man, but in this moment, he was no stronger than the child War had first appeared to him as.

War nodded “I know what you sought mortal, you shall not have it, and now you understand why. Do not call upon me again” it said. Then without another word, it folded its wings around itself and faded from sight, leaving the broken general, the horrified priests, and the tributes they had prepared behind.

A long silence fell over the temple, no one spoke a word, some priests solemnly cleaned up the altar from the invocation ritual, but none met each other’s eyes or looked upon the general. It was only once they were finished that one dared break the silence with a question. “So… general… what now? Are we still going to war?”

The general was quiet for an unbearably long time before he stood, his hands still shaking from what he had experienced. His mind reeled with the visions that had been thrust upon him, but he took a deep breath to steady himself. He looked to the priest who had spoken, and the room grew tense in anticipation of his words.

And the general, for better or worse, gave his answer.