I don't know what to title this

It was just a loud crash one day. We were sitting in Ranthael’s mansion, just like any other day. And then there was a shockwave, an immense surge of power. There was an overwhelming sense of vertigo and darkness flickering on and off. I could tell Lucientelle felt it too. We both ran to the window and saw them fighting.

I had never seen Ranthael so angry. Sometimes he surprised me like that. When I was a new god I once looked into a dream of his and was only able to get a glimpse before he turned around and threatened me. In his dream. I was scared shitless but he awoke the next morning perfectly pleasant, like nothing had happened. That was the last time I ever looked into his mind. But this went beyond that. This was a rage I had never seen.

Puritus, I can’t really say. If I had to guess, there was probably fear there. I don’t think he expected the degree of Ranthael’s anger as well. Puritus had already been disassociating from the rest of us. I certainly never talked to him before. It was known that he had taken his immortality as an excuse to live without consequence or morals. Ranthael tried to keep him in line, as much as he could anyway.

Watching two gods fight is a surreal spectacle. And quite frightening. It was difficult to track their attacks, but you could tell with each strike, the two were holding back so as not to obliterate the universe in their rage. That’s not to say they didn’t damage the area around them, and I can honestly say that Lucientelle and I were paralyzed by the thought of ending up as collateral damage.

I’m not entirely sure what strike ended it, but eventually Puritus was sent hurtling into the ground. He faltered, probably because he was tired from the fight, and Ranthael was on him in a split second. It’s odd, I remember the next part clearly, as if I were the one on the ground then. Lingering memories from Puritus, I suppose. Ranthael’s punch must have obliterated Puritus’ torso, as the pain was so bad. At that moment he knew that Ranthael was going to kill him. I can still see the killing intent in Ranthael’s eyes. It’s sent a shiver up my spine for hundreds of years.

Ranthael struck Puritus several more times. I’m not sure what blow specifically killed his body. I don’t think Puritus knows either.

When a God dies their power is transferred to another mortal to continue their role. I’m not entirely sure why Puritus was different. Maybe his soul jumped bodies before he could be killed, but honestly I’m not sure if that would allow him to keep his powers. Regardless, his soul found his way into my body, possibly because I was the closest nearby, and it slept there. It was several years before I realized that I had been possessed by Puritus, and by then it was too late to do anything about it.

Meanwhile, Ranthael, still on his knees over Puritus’ crushed body, started to come to his senses again. He was a bloody mess by the end of it, covered in both his and Puritus’. I’m sure Chaos was proud. He slowly stood up, but it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. His arms now hung limply at his sides and his eyes were wide and unfocused in shock. He stumbled forward several steps but Lucientelle intercepted him.

“Ranthael!” she yelled, and placed her hands on his shoulders in case he fell. We tried desperately to get him to talk, but he made no indication that he even heard us. His eyes just continued to blankly stare ahead. When we finally gave up we became deeply worried about him. We took him back to the mansion and washed the blood off his skin. We laid him on his bed to rest and took turns keeping watch. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to show signs of life again. Sometimes he’d glance at someone when they walked in, or move slightly when spoken to. At one point I brushed his hair out of his eyes and I could have sworn he smiled.

Eventually he sat up, and then was able to walk out of his room. He didn’t speak until he asked for food one day. Of course by then we all wanted to ask questions, but were afraid to send him into a relapse. I’m told that the others did eventually ask, but were only met with silence, and a slight fear in Ranthael’s expression.

I’m unsure how many of his friends, even those close to him know, but I can tell Ranthael keeps secrets. If he had spent 10,000 years guarding them, then there was no chance we’d get him to speak now.