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Gods Die Too

Isskar was what a long forgotten people called the deity that control the ebbs and flows of the water that provided the nutrient-rich medium that supported human-settled life. If the settlement and all its benefits were to persist than it was important Isskar was paid proper tribute. Baezed and Razdek were respectively the last son and the last father of Isskar’s temple.
These spiritual mediums found purpose in the daily routines of worship. They were an integral  element of the sacred stability that upholds civilization. As was every morning Baezed followed Razdek along the flooded banks as the grey-haired man leaning on his long cane shuffled along the flooded banks looking for any manifestation of Isskar.
Baezed carried with him a satchel filled with the entrails of a sacrificial animal. On that day they were forced to offer up the cat that kept their modest temple free of vermin. He grabbed a handful of the cat’s eviscerated internal matter and tossed it into the water.
“Please accept this offering mighty Isskar,” he whispered with each toss.
Every so often something gleaming in the soft water inundated earth caught  Razdek’s eye, and the old man struggled to bend a knee to pick up whatever it was before calling Baezed over to get it for him.
Abandoned homes sat silently eroding in the murky flood waters, and their adjacent farm plots had become stagnant swamps. The gusting wind and the sound of birds breaking the surface of the water where they landed were the only sounds to be heard in the lonely delta. No worshipers came forth with an offer for Isskar or his subjects. Sadly it seemed the vindictive god had exiled all the people who depended on its generosity to sustain their existence.
As it turned out though, the relationship between the salt of the earth and Isskar was of a symbiotic nature. As the swelling waters forced people from their ancestral homes the single culture that had developed with the cult of Isskar at its heart was doomed to the same fate as the homes they abandoned.
“Baezed!” Razdek called in his gravel voice.
Baezed rushed over and could see a small fish flopping at the feet of his mentor.
“What have you found?” Baezed asked.
Razdek quietly pointed at the struggling fish. Baezeds looked down and gasped at the sight. The fish had flopped on its belly. It had green tinted scales and a black stripped back, but what caught the attention of the high priest were its eyes. They weren’t flat and lidless; they were building orbs with a blue colored iris like that of a human. The silently suffocating animal astonished them further when it blinked at them.
Baezed bend down and gently took hold of its slippery body. Rather than struggle in his grip, the spasming fish seemed to instantly calm. Its gills pushed open and shut.
“Let me get a closer look,” Razdek said. He squinted his eyes and Baezeds help as close as he could.  Razdek and the fish locked gazes, and after a moment Razdek clenched his eyes shut.
“Baezeds, Isskar has spoken to me. Our fate is one. Soon we will become one with the water and one with Isskar.”
The fish with human eyes was the last incarnation of a fallen god.  For all its power the divine is dependent on the flesh and blood adherents to carry on its will. While its worshipers either died out or were absorbed by other peoples Isskar, the river god was doomed to the same fate as mortal man. To fade away forgotten in oblivion.

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