99 AC / 54 HA
Hermione
"You killed him. You killed the Crab King." Father's words had the intended impact, as Hazkar slowly lowered his head in profound shame.
I lifted my gaze towards Father. He sighed heavily before speaking. "I ventured deep into the lake while you were gone. I found the butchered remains hidden within the depths. The curious thing was that there was no decay, even after staying underwater for who knows how long," Father said, gazing down at the imprisoned deity to seek his answers.
"It was the only way," Hazkar whispered, his gravelly voice trembling with grief.
Flashback
Third Person POV
Centuries ago, an unnatural shift had taken hold of the grey mist. It had suddenly grown violent, churning and thrashing about as if emboldened by a dark, unseen will. It grew far too strong—so much so that it began aggressively devouring divine essence.
Sartan and Zahken had still been desperately devising ways to breach the shifting fog when the corruption finally attacked them, violently seeping into their immortal bodies. The two river deities had instantly channelled their vast power in a unified attempt to overpower the intrusion, but the harder they fought back, the more aggressive the mist became.
For Zahken, his physical bearing began to violently slip away. Reality faded in and out of existence, replaced by a suffocating grey haze. Soon, he found himself completely trapped within the confines of his own mind. The sight that greeted his internal vision was gruesome and utterly incomprehensible.
Through his own possessed eyes, he watched himself fighting Sartan.
They were both bleeding heavily, their divine bodies littered with deep cuts and brutal bruises from the relentless clash of their magic.
"Zahken, wake up! You cannot lose yourself to this filth!" Sartan roared over the deafening crackle of their powers.
The Crab King's face was grotesque with the spreading corruption. His shining, red shell-like armour had turned a diseased, petrified black, the filthy darkness consuming half of his massive body. His right eye, usually bright with life, was now as dark and empty as the night.
Trapped as a mere spectator within his own soul, Zahken realized with mounting horror that his physical body was completely out of his control. Driven by sheer desperation, he turned his divine might inward, violently fighting his own corrupted essence in a brutal attempt to purge the filth and reclaim his flesh.
But it was to no avail.
In the physical realm, Sartan continued to frantically parry and deflect Zahken's possessed outer shell, while inside, Zahken waged a losing war for his own dominion. He watched helplessly through his own eyes as he injured his brother countless times. Yet, even when lethal openings presented themselves in the chaotic melee, Sartan absolutely refused to strike a deep, killing blow against his brother.
Zahken's silent desperation grew with each deafening clash, but no answer to the terrible conundrum emerged from the fog.
The relentless clash of divine magic raged on within the churning fog. The sheer exhaustion of the constant, unyielding fight against both the mist and his possessed brother finally began to severely toll upon Sartan. His movements grew noticeably sluggish, and the thick corruption creeping across his massive, crab-like form caused his limbs to violently tremble.
It happened in a fraction of a second. Zahken's possessed body surged forward, executing a flawless, devastating strike. Sartan raised his massive, blackened claw in a desperate attempt to defend, but the heavy appendage faltered at the crucial moment. The lethal blow sheared cleanly through the thick, petrified shell, entirely severing Sartan's heavy claw from his arm.
Sartan unleashed a horrifying agonized scream of pure terror and pain.
Trapped deep within his own mind, Zahken watched the gruesome spectacle unfold. Witnessing his own hands brutalize his beloved brother completely shattered his paralysis, driving him into absolute, desperate madness. He refused to be a helpless passenger any longer. Taking a drastic measure, Zahken turned his divine will inward. He forcefully targeted the thick corruption that had already consumed a third of his inner essence, and with agonizing resolve, he violently severed that infected portion of his own soul.
The physical backlash was immediate and devastating. Zahken forcefully expelled the invasive mist, instantly regaining total control of his limbs, but the catastrophic internal injury left him profoundly weakened, dropping him heavily onto the damp mud.
Sartan clutched his bleeding stump, his breath rattling in his chest. Yet, seeing the clear, unclouded sanity finally return to Zahken's eyes, the Crab King managed a genuinely pained, loving smile.
"You are back. I missed you, brother," Sartan whispered, his ancient voice thick with emotion.
"Sartan," Zahken gasped, immediately moving forward to cradle his brother's massive, injured form.
Before he could reach him, Sartan's remaining claw violently lashed out, acting entirely on its own corrupted accord. Zahken barely managed to dodge the heavy swipe.
Sartan smiled again, a profoundly sad, defeated expression. "I am sorry to do this to you, but I cannot hold on for much longer. It has eaten half my soul. You must kill me, Zahken."
"No!" Zahken shouted, utterly shocked, fiercely denying his brother's horrific plea. "Just sever the corruption! You will be severely weakened, but you will live!"
A single, luminous tear slipped from Sartan's uncorrupted eye, tracking slowly down his moulted face. "It is far too late, brother. My soul will not be able to withstand the severance. I am lost."
"No! No, please!" Zahken begged, fresh tears rapidly blurring his vision.
Sartan's corrupted body did not share his sorrow. The heavy claw lunged forward with terrifying speed. Deeply weakened from his own soul-severance, Zahken was entirely unable to react in time. The sharp, jagged point of the claw struck him directly in the face, violently piercing and popping his right eye in a sickening spray of divine blood.