Kin - kneecapfungus - Blasphemous (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

The sands of the hourglass had long formed a dune at the bottom of its phial.

The rustling of thin bunches of birch wood against the cold, smooth stone floor of the chapel echoed the walls of the brotherhood’s colossal yet modest abode as The Young Penitent swept the dust away with his brethren, who each is occupied with a different, menial task: window cleaning, wiping the pews, and dusting the altar. An air of placid quietness hung over them like a silent hallow. Zero hostility, under a sense of community. As the young penitent strode over to the entryway to finish his task of the allotted day, he caught sight of 5 of his elder brothers and sisters far away, venerable members of the Brotherhood of Silent Sorrow, conversing with one another through gestures of their hands. From the young penitent’s point of view, he could see that a few of those hands were obscured by the robed figures of the brothers, whilst some were completely visible to him.

He watched silently, already halting his current activity as his eyes deciphered the symbolic movements of their hands.

“We are safe to discuss our matters here, yes?” A sister who is donned with a gambeson, a knight of the brotherhood, gestured.

“This place is the least visited area of this church, the younger brothers who were in charge of cleaning this area supposedly have finished their commendable work. We are safe to convene from prying eyes." Another brother, this one wore a dark cowl with ochre cinctures, replied.

One part of the silent conversation was cut off from his view as the penitent one could only see the rising and falling motions of the other brothers and sisters’ arms, but soon after, the conversation seemed to disperse as each brother’s hands answered one another, discursive and unsettling, however the Young Penitent caught bits and pieces of the conversation:

“The eldest brother has been behaving rather strangely in these times”.

“He avoided me after mass and went straight to his chamber."

“Heard a deafening sound during slumber… thought I saw the eldest brother banging the wall with a candelabrum."

Unbeknownst to himself, as though curiosity gripped the tethers of his consciousness and propelled him forward, The Young Penitent settled his broom against the entryway and walked closer to see the rest of the conversation, ignoring the looks from his companions who were busy with the tasks moments ago.

“…Wouldn’t talk with the children like he used to."

“Something happened….”

“I saw him hunched down….covering his ears in the hallway….. , as though something was speaking….”

“Refused to lead a prayer…. I had to take over.”

*TACK*

If the area wasn’t so bustling like the marketplace of Albero, nobody would bat an eye to the sound the handle of the broom made against the stone slab floors. Unfortunately, even from the distance where the older members were standing, the sound is akin to screaming in a cave.

All 5 heads turned towards the Young Penitent, if it weren’t for the capirote helmets masking their heads, the Young Penitent would’ve seen the shocked faces directed towards him. Time passed for a moment; The Young Penitent simply stood in his place awkwardly.

The brother with the dark cowl finally signed “What are you doing here? You should have finished your work by then!” The Young Penitent bowed, unable to meet their faces, and with clammy hands signed “My apologies, I was curious about your conversation, I promise that this will never happen again! I will keep this a secret!”.

“Are you alone? Where are your brothers?” The sister signed this time.

“They are at the back, still cleaning the place. They didn’t look at your conversation, I’m sure of it." The Young Penitent replied. And he hoped to the capricious miracle that nobody but him eavesdropped on their conversation, whatever the eldest brother is currently going through must be grave, and the last thing the brotherhood needs is profound turmoil amongst their kin.

“Bring them here, all of you need to be scolded."

Oh dear.

And so, the Young Penitent called upon his brothers and sisters to him and endured heavy lectures under the form of expressive hand gestures and a flick to the forehead. “Finish your tasks on time after this! And do not ever eavesdrop on private conversations again!” The knightly sister reminded him as they acquiesced before leaving the area.

As the Young Penitent and his companions made their way to the feasting hall, he could see their sharp glares and sour faces directed at him, making him guilty. The boy could only muster a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry." He gestured.

The tension from earlier dissipated rather quickly in the feasting hall as the Young Penitent and his companions stuffed their mouths with delicious food and water. As per the dining etiquette taught to him in his early years, one should be silent and neat whilst savoring the food and drinks as a sign of gratitude to the twisted one who watches over them. However, the light tapping on his shoulder readily ignored any sort of decorum at the dining table, The Young Penitent turned around to face his friend.

“What did you see back there?” The boy-Agustin, signed.

The Young Penitent thought about the promise he made. No, He mustn’t tell anyone. He thought about the lessons taught to him when he was first inducted into the brotherhood as a runt, ineptitude and callow. Never lie to anyone, a lie through the tongue begets vines of thorns in the throats of men, a lie through the hands begets thorns enclosing the wrist, cruel punishments inflicted by the will of the miracle. And that’s why secrets were kept and seldom shared, although… he never saw any of those calamities befell on a poor fellow before his eyes… yet. He could keep the secret, and merely stated that if he told anyone he would get punished for it. But he knew Agustin, petulant Agustin who could pester someone for days on end and never run out of energy for it.

So he broke the first and foremost tenets of his brotherhood, he lied. “I saw them conversing to each other about a notorious heretic condemned to the stake witnessed recently, apparently his body was reinstated after the flames consumed him, it’s the work of the miracle!”

Ah, an outlandish lie. As of the present times.

But it served its purpose. “That’s crazy, praise be to the miracle!” Agustin smiled.

The rest of the day went by hazily, it was a repetition of their usual routine, though The Young Penitent noticed a change in atmosphere as he proceeded with his daily life, and it seemed that he himself was the only person who took note of the drop in the peaceful ambience. The others around him, save for the elder brothers and sisters of the brotherhood who convened secretly moments ago, went about themselves without a care.

A stream of uneasiness coursed its way through his veins. There was a sense of duty in him, urging him to uncover the truth behind the eldest brother’s plight.

He would do it during slumber.

It hurts.. Its deafening….. this.. eternal pained moans of the Father persisted the more he resists the voices. This penance that he will carry to his grave…

He cannot take it anymore.

The eldest brother, barefooted and staggering towards his only haven, held an awfully dented candelabrum, it’s antecedently shimmering silver body now scratched and tarnished by the abrasive stone walls of his chamber. The disembodied voices his mind bore progressed fervently, clouding his senses and rationality, as though goading him to break his vow of silence. But why? Why did the Twisted One lend a portion of his anguish? Why did the miracle bestow this punishment upon him? What sins did he commit as the eldest brother? Or is this the responsibility the eldest brother must undertake? He thought of letting it go and condemning himself to blasphemy by uttering a pained groan, a groan similar to that of the Father, and let the merciful miracle bid a different form of punishment on him.

He needed a distraction.

His feet bounded quickly towards the pathway that led to his chamber, ignoring his horrible posture.

Hurry.. Hurry…

He needed…

He needed a…. who is that?

The impulse to yelp is held back by years of practiced silence, his throat caught his voice in a gripping vice as he realized it was one of the younger members of the brotherhood. What is he doing, walking around during slumber? Though he supposed the endless dusk didn’t really contribute much to a proper circadian rhythm.

“Are you alright? I apologize for startling you.” The boy-The Young Penitent-signed frantically.

The eldest brother looked incredulously and shook his head in an endearing manner. Settling down the candelabrum at his side he signed “Why are you here my child? Did a nightmare plagued you in your dreams?”

The Young Penitent seemed to hesitate for a moment before expressing his confession. “Rather, you seemed to be plagued by nightmares yourself.” The eldest brother widened his eyes in shock as The Young Penitent continued. “I saw the elders talking about your behavior lately, they said you hit things with a candelabrum." They glanced at the metallic object. “And that you looked like you are constantly listening to voices in your head, are you, perhaps, ill, eldest brother? Or is this an intervention from the holy miracle?”

The eldest brother, flabbergasted, took one step back. How did the elder members know? Did he, perhaps in his state of agony, mistakenly reveal undesirable parts of himself to gazing eyes he wasn’t aware of?

“I was worried, eldest brother, once again, I hope you can forgive this foolish boy for intruding your-“. Large, calloused hands clasped small, soft ones, and The Young Penitent took this as a cue to stop. He has overstepped his boundaries, and a punishment is due.

At least that was the conjecture.

What The Young Penitent didn’t expect was the eldest brother pointing towards his chamber, leading the both of them into its somber interior.

Once the doors were closed, the eldest brother, whose palms were pressing against the said doors, hunched down with his head bowed, feeling unmistakably dejected. Moments later, he turned around to face his visitor and finally signed. “You, and the elders were right, I have been plagued by nightmares, no, by the holy father himself. I have been hearing his voice, his lament, in every waking hour. Even in my sleep, I dreamt of his contorted body, his eyes, as though pleading for emancipation from his agonizing penance, though I could see beyond those beseeching gaze lies a guilt that demands more.”

“As the eldest brother of this confraternity, I ostensibly deemed myself worthy of undertaking a portion of his burden, but my hubris has proven me wrong. I don’t want to hear it anymore, a voice so disquieting, it reaches me in my sleep. My only reprieve is the clangorous strike of the candelabrum, I cannot abuse the large copper bells of this church to toll away my suffering.”

The eldest brother rubbed his face with his palms and pushed his bedraggled hair back, his irises moving frantically downward, as though searching for a definitive answer under their feet. Without thinking, The Young Penitent strode over and put him in a comforting embrace. In that moment, the arms encircling his lean figure were akin to a warm quilt draped over his shoulders in his boyhood.

He wept.

I have failed all of you, haven’t I?

The embrace stayed until the rapid heartbeats of the eldest brother slowed itself, to which he disentangled himself from the younger.

“Thank you, young one.” The eldest brother signed, smiling whilst doing so. “Your presence here has convinced me to continue my role conferred to me by my predecessors. I now have courage to move on.”

“If I must hear his lament, then so shall I hear it until my body turns to dust. That, is my duty as the eldest brother.” Frowns morphed into smiles. The dull illumination from the waning candles does not look too somber anymore.

“Now then young lad, you best be on your way now. Go to sleep!”

The Young Penitent flashed a toothy grin before departing for his sleeping quarters.

Far away, painted on the walls of the chamber, if one isn’t so keen on looking, is a shadow bearing a towering yet hunched figure, squatting with one raised hand gripping a branched silhouette.

They had done it. They had done it now.

His brothers and sisters, mercilessly massacred, their bodies dragged across the mud and thrown into the cliff of the brotherhood of silent sorrow, their very home.

When the confraternities and the church prevalent across Cvstodia took heed of the first sign of the Sword of Guilt, the land plunged into chaos. The brotherhood, determined to achieve their novel goal, knew that the sword would serve its purpose in ending this cycle of suffering of Cvstodia.

To kill the ruinous serpent, one must cut off the head from its body. But the body, the church, led by none other than Holy Escribar, does not stand by. The Anointed Legion… The gold-cladded lady of the bandaged sword.. A different penitent, one that petrified many who dared to cross blades against her.

One who has struck down many with the might of her blade, never to see the light of the endless dusk again.

The grueling training he undertook whilst his brothers were still alive served its purpose. As the extinction of his brotherhood drew closer, he was deemed worthy of the mea culpa, as the portrait bearing maiden, Desemparados, remarked, henceforth granting him the title “The Penitent One”. His brothers’ deaths will not be in vain.

Standing in front of him was the lady of the bandaged sword-Crisanta-menacingly, with her hands folded neatly on top of the hilt of her sword that is currently upright with its tip on the ground. Unmoving, unyielding. The Penitent One wasted no time and charged forward with his sword fully drawn, and Crisanta did the same. Their swords struck and parried each other, with each powerful hit executed by Crisanta threw The Penitent One off-balance that he was sure his arms would give up. But he cannot waver. He MUSTN’T waver. The Penitent One leapt forward with mea culpa held above his head, charging a devastating blow to cleave her into two, and Crisanta, with a stance that planted her feet to the ground firmly, swiftly swung a death dealing hack across his abdomen, gutting him as a fisherman would to his catch of the day. The ground is dyed with sanguine as The Penitent One went limp before a resounding thud of his body making impact with the soil filled the now lonely battlefield. The anticipated clattering of iron against the ground, however, didn’t happen.

How odd. The insistent grip of his sword, even when her blade has claimed his life, Is this perhaps the work of the capricious miracle itself?

If it is, if the miracle wishes so, then this man shall join his brothers and sisters in the now desecrated grounds of the Brotherhood of Silent Sorrow.

If the miracle wishes so, he shall rise again to face her blade once more. And they shall see if he prevails in their second encounter.

“Sleep now, alongside the bodies of your brethren, whose very clothes have long been decomposed by the merciless flow of time.”

High above, The Twisted One watched over the sea of bodies below. His countenance, silhouetted by the horizon against his back, was that of a father whose very children were slaughtered before him.

Open your eyes once more, silent one, and see that your penance is far from over

The Penitent One awoke in cold sweat. Cold, suchlike that of the bodies he was posited on. In his right hand, the familiar weight of the mea culpa remained unrust. The Penitent One, now with newfound bearing and vigor, took his time to scan his environment.

The sight before him was one that used to strike into the hearts of his childhood, pulling on the strings of nostalgia and longings, now overshadowed with mourning and guilt. None of them died with dignity, their bodies did not rot with their clothes. Exposed, like hunted preys under the cleaver.

As The Penitent One advanced into the main entrance of the brotherhood, he could see countless tombstones adorned with lit candles erected on vacant grounds. Small tokens of mourning and perhaps, a bit of apology. After all, the common Cvstodia inhabitants did not have a hand in this ordeal and therefore, could not stop the whirlwind that is Escribar and his auxiliaries.

He truly was alone, a one of a kind.

Far into the reaches of the covenant, hidden behind cobwebs and ruined columns, a hunched giant who, mere moments ago, were pounding the undecaying naked bodies of his former brothers and sisters, watched closely, and it grunted in exasperation as a member of this…. this detestable brotherhood dared to rise again.

It looked like his punishment was far from over.

So the giant leapt and landed before the penitent one, baring his green liturgical vestment and a helmet that hid the once-loved face of his confraternity. An enormous candelabrum is encased by the fingers of his raised hand. With primed momentum in tow, the giant bashed the candelabrum into the ground, uncaring of the bodies sent flying by the shockwave.

The Penitent One, who narrowly avoided the broken projectiles from the hit earlier watched in horror as realization quickly dawned on him.

I hear his lament

And I don’t want to hear it anymore

With this pained grunt that I utter for the very first time since my initiation into this brotherhood, I hereby relinquish my role as the eldest brother of The Silent Sorrow.

May the miracle martyr the flesh that upholds me, and may your wailing bring me peace.

The battle that followed was but a haze that the Penitent One refused to cogitate. Each stroke of the candelabrum was artfully parried by his sword, each cut was received with welcomed vulnerability. Once the Penitent One dealt the killing blow to the giant’s rib, the giant released his candelabrum and fell backwards. The silent brotherhood reclaimed its moniker again.

The blood profusing from the open wound of the rib heralded the rebirth of a journey, one that The Penitent One commenced with his metal capirote filled to the brim with the sanguine liquid of the eldest brother before donning it again.

May this blood-soaked baptism comfort him in his sleep and cool him in the swelter. May he absolve the sins of his brethren on the other side of the dream.

A towering figure, twice the height of the penitent one, knelt by the entryway of the covenant with an unfurled scroll in his hands. His body is bound by ropes that seemed to partially restrict his forearms, gazing up he could see a pointed hood reminiscent of the capirote penitents wore with a spiraled wicker mat concealing his face. Two incense burners rested by his sides. As The Penitent One walked closer, the texts scribbled on the scroll became clearer to him, his eyes caught words indicative of enchanting phenomena attributed to the will of the miracle.

“Regretful be the heart, Penitent One. The anguish of the Eldest Brother has now come to an end. I am Deogracias, witness to and narrator of the acts of the Grievous Miracle. Such is my penance, as yours is silence.”

The Penitent One wept.