Threads of the Soul

All eyes were glued to the top of those towering marble pillars and the figures placed at the top of them, all focused on the intricately carved statues that had once been referred to as truly life-like. But this was taking it a bit too far.

Under the secretive control of Seth's threads, the statues pulled themselves from their century old podiums and began to stretch or roll their shoulders, as if they had just awoken from a prolonged slumber. As if these beautifully designed, but ultimately lifeless husks of pretty rock, had actually been alive the entire time and were just waiting for their moment to make their debut to the world.

That was the lovely thing about Thraven, and Scotland in general. For some reason they just absolutely loved placing statues everywhere that they could. Seemingly every important square in every city had some sort of statue or depiction of some dude from history. Not only were they stylish, but they were incredibly useful for someone like Seth. Of course this meant that a lot of the important or most well known statues were just vandalised and made famous because of their vandalism, the famous cone headed rider for example. But even if he avoided those ones, not that he intended to, Seth would still have plenty of puppets on hand to use if the need arises.

That wasn't even including the non human building reliefs, such as gargoyles or grotesques. Even before these statues had fully broken free, he was already letting his mind wander to the things he could do with the likes of the, now missing, Colossus of Rhodes or lovely Lady Liberty outside of New York.

But such ventures would have to wait for the far far future. God knows if he'd ever be able to make it across his own city or his own country, never mind across a vast ocean into another country entirely, or if he was even strong enough to control a colossus of that magnitude. It took a lot out of him to control the significantly smaller Shelled Drake after all.

With another miniature avalanche of marble, the first of the six godly statues finally broke its feet free from the stone pillar it had been placed upon. With a strong tug, it broke its weapon free, slightly snapping it at the base, before leaping forward off the roof of the building.

Every single set of eyes watched it fall, some even letting out audible gasps as if they were watching someone commit suicide instead of a statue falling from a building.

When it landed, the earth beneath its marbled feet cracked as tremors emanated from the newly formed impact crater. The divine statue slowly stood, stone grinding against itself as its carved limbs shifted. When it finally stood tall and proud, puffing out its chiselled chest that showed the hint of muscles beneath the rigid toga, it slammed the butt of its pole-arm against the ground.

At its full height, the statue stood at 7 foot tall, with curled hair and a great big bushy beard, and a trident as tall as himself clutched tight in his hand. Neptune had made his arrival, and he was not alone for long.

One by one the other statues broke themselves, and their traditional weapons, free although some were more useful than others. After only a minute, four ancient gods had descended onto the mortal world at the command of the lowly puppet master.

Stood before the cowering and broken Sirius were the carved depictions of; Neptune, with his mighty trident, Mars, armed with a gladius and a round parma shield, Minerva, armed with a spear and a similar rounded shield, and finally Diana. Unfortunately for Diana, although she had been carved with a weapon, there is nothing more useless a stone bow, not that she had any arrows to fire in the first place.

Atop the library, there remained two statues in a dishevelled state, yet only one remained standing. In the process of removing himself, Mercury had snapped his stone leg in two, leaving half of his leg attached to the podium instead of releasing himself. It wasn't long after that the life he had been suddenly gifted was unceremoniously stripped away, leaving him as a lifeless, inert statue once more. Laying uselessly on his back and missing a leg.

Meanwhile, the mighty Jupiter had been worn away with time. Years before Seth had even laid eyes upon his visage, he was already missing a chunk from his head and both of his arms. While Seth could relate to the arm conundrum, it made for a less than useful puppet.

"You see? I don't need bodies. Don't want them. Nothing but filthy liar."

Corvus' strained voice echoed out once again, each word sounding like it was a painful ordeal to force out. A quirk of Seth's limited control on his puppets speech capabilities that would lead to more mutters and speculative rumours in the near future. But for now, it only sent shivers down the spines of many as they watched on in awe at the man commanding the visages of the gods to do his very bidding.

With a snap of Corvus' fingers, the new puppets stepped towards the broken body of Sirius to give him the second part of his lesson. Just the sight of the towering stone divinities striding towards him, especially after the horrific treatment he had felt at the hands of a single minion, he acted out of pure desperation as his last sliver of hope was brutally torn away.

He tried to build up the energy to let off one final optic blast, aiming for Corvus instead of the puppets, yet as soon as his eyes gained even the slightest of glow he was struck across the face by the rough, stone surface of Minerva's shield. The carved stone carving its own furrows into his already ruined flesh.

However that strike was the one and only strike he received, no horrendous beating from sledgehammer sized stone fists nor was he being cut to pieces by their less than effective weapons. Instead, after having a shield slammed into his face as punishment for his rebellion, Sirius felt a pair of rough and cold hands wrap tight around his ankles. Just that alone was enough to make him cry out in pain, the hands having such a vice-like death grip on its ankles he swore that he could hear his bones creaking under the pressure as they came close to snapping.

Two more sets of rough, carefully carved hands clamped down onto his shoulders and bound his wrists like shackles before pinning them to the wall he was leaning against. No matter how much he struggled, not that his energy deprived body could put up much of a fight at this moment, Sirius had no chance of breaking free.

So, when a final hand gripped him by the hair and yanked hard, forcing him to look up lest he be scalped, and he saw Seth slowly approaching him with a knife drawn, he couldn't help but have a particular reaction.

The rebellion had been beaten out of him, his ego smothered to death. His body broken and bruised while he had drained himself of the very power he coveted and thought made him so much better than everyone else. He had nothing left. Nothing, but fear.

As Seth slowly approached, that simple knife left his hand and ascended into the air. It slowly floated over, as if it was drinking in every moment of dread that coursed through Sirius body. The knife came to a stop, hovering over his head like the sword of Damocles, his vision turned black as the final, free stone hand clamped over his eyes. The last thing he saw was the visage of the one he had left to die, looking more like Death himself than a dead man.

Sirius knew what was coming next. He wanted to weep, but his swollen eyes could produce no tears. Instead, he leaked from a different place. As Sirius waited for the knife to plunge into him, to end his life, he found himself sitting in a growing puddle of warm liquid seeping out of him. What a miserable way to die.

But Death did not take him.

The knife pierced his flesh, cutting into him without a hint of resistance, but it stopped before it could even hit bone. It didn't pierce through or even move to slit his throat. Instead it began to move up and down, carving its way through his skin and forcing him to feel every little movement. Forced to experience a world of blackness, all Sirius could focus on was the intense flashes of pain with every stroke of the blade, eventually beginning to mentally map out the movements it was making.

T...R...A...I...T...O...R.

Traitor. It took its time carving that word into his forehead, making sure that it was a scar that would last a lifetime. Whether that life lasted two more minutes or dozens of years. In the world of black, he was acutely aware of the warmth breath against his ear even before he heard Seth whisper to him. Venom dripping from every word as he did his best to hold in the utter disdain he felt for this worm of a man.

"Death is too good for you. You need to suffer. You forgot about me, like betraying me was nothing to you. Well now you will never forget. You will never forget what you did not only to me, but to all the others too. Everyone will know what you are and you will never have the chance to trick anyone again."

His vision returned as he felt Seth moving away, letting the first thing he saw be Seth's back as he walked away. Just like that he had been carved up and dumped to the side, like he was little more than trash. He couldn't go back to his old life, he couldn't go back inside to the library. He had nothing.

"Y-you can't do this to me! You can't strand me all alone like this, I'll die out here on my own! Just... Just kill me, get it over with. Don't make me go back out there, not alone. Please. Isn't that what you want? To kill me?"

"You can survive perfectly fine on your own. I did. Death is too good for you, it's not enough of a punishment. You deserve to live with your sins and face retribution for all you've done. But if you really want to die so badly, do it yourself. You're nothing to me anymore."

With one last look of utter disdain at the grovelling, pathetic worm, Seth turned on his heels and walked away, followed closely by Corvus and his new puppets. The traitor was left alone, branded and sitting in a puddle of his own piss, staring at the only thing Seth had bothered to leave him.

A lone, razor edged feather.