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The rhythmic sound of stone meeting metal filled the air of the clearing. The Executioner sharpened her axe, patiently waiting to perform her duty. It was a prestigious job, or so she had been told. Bishop Shamura themself had requested her specifically for the role, a truth that made her puff her chest in pride.
It was stiff competition in Silk Cradle. Executioners, soldiers, assassins, they were all a dime a dozen. When everyone is trained to fight, skill with a blade tends to lose its novelty. Executioners tended to squabble with one another in search of jobs, but the mark of a true executioner was the ability to make a single, clean cut. None of that barbaric hacking and thwacking until a brutalized head finally topples from the shoulders.
No, the Executioner was quite good at what she did. Where the others often held second or third jobs to support themselves, she was sought out for her skill. She'd never had to swing her axe more than once to do her job, and she kept her blade so sharp that she could slice through flesh and bone like softened butter. It paid to be exceptional.
"Oi," one of the prison guards called out, pulling her from her thoughts, "it's almost time." She nodded silently and ran a thumb across her axe. She smiled; nice and sharp, just how she liked it.
She stood, pulling the hood of her robes over her head. Her tail flicked idly as she stepped across the stone circle and up to the chopping block. There were several other hooded followers around the clearing, and even all of the Bishops were present. This must be one hell of a heretic for such a turn-out. Or maybe another lamb, those executions tended to have a lot of buzz around them.
The latter proved true as a few minutes later, two prison guards came into view, a shackled lamb between them. The Executioner felt bad for the poor thing. They didn't look sad, hardly frightened, just tired; they had probably spent most of their life on the run. She never understood the reason behind the genocide, but it was hardly her place to question the gods. She was just here to do a job.
The metal shackles clanked loudly as the lamb was shoved before the Executioner. The Lamb's eye flicked to the gleam of her axe before quickly returning to staring holes at the ground. A gnawing sense of dread began to swell deep in her chest. Something about this felt wrong.
Then, the Bishops began to speak.
"Before us stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade," Bishop Heket growled, her lips curved into a snarl.
The Executioner's eyes grew wide. This was the last lamb? She'd known their numbers were dwindling, but she didn't realize it was by that much. And here she stood, about to erase a species.
"With this final sacrifice, the prophecy will be impossible to fulfill," Bishop Kallamar said, his voice tense and anxious. 'Prophecy?' the Executioner thought. What prophecy? Is that why they hunted the lambs?
"The heretic who lies bound below will be condemned to eternal captivity," Bishop Leshy spoke, his leaves rustling defiantly.
The Executioner felt her head swimming with the onslaught on information. 'Heretic bound below,' what was that supposed to mean? Her ears pinned flat against her skull, but she shook her head, forcing herself to focus. She couldn't let herself get overwhelmed; she still had a job to do. She still had to... had to...
She had to kill the last lamb.
"And the Old Faith shall be preserved," Bishop Shamura hissed, their pedipalps clicking with grim finality.
All eyes turned to the Executioner. Her body tensed as she froze where she stood. A sense of panic flooded her body. With each passing moment, she could sense the Bishops growing impatient. She forced her body to move, each step heavy with her sins, till she was beside the lamb, her back to her gods.
The lamb had already placed their chin upon the block, their eyes squeezed tightly shut. With trembling hands, the Executioner gripped the handle of her axe, the sharp edge of the blade hovering over the lamb's neck. She could hear her heartbeat hammering in her chest, deafening the world around her. She took a deep breath, steadying her hands.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll make this quick." She lifted the axe high above her head, and in one swift motion, she brought it down upon her target. At the same time blade met stone, the lamb's head tumbled and bounced upon the stone floor, their body growing slack.
Cheers erupted from the other followers. The Bishops seemed to sigh with relief. The Executioner watched as blood pooled from the stump of the lamb's neck, sinking into the cracks in the stone. Her eyes met the lamb's empty, lifeless gaze.
What have I done?