To Kill A God 

The God before him was silent. 

His horns twisted and curled into themselves, the flowers blooming atop them crimson and bright. Jan held his breath. Kept his bow tight between his fingers.

“Aim in between the brows, that’s the only spot of thin skin on his body,” Kai, the Holova of the tribe, instructed. 

Jan nodded, raising the bow and aiming at the soft spot on his forehead. Behind him, he could hear excited murmurs and chants of his people, could taste their hunger in the air. That alone filled him with a surge of anger. 

For the God that sat before him, for the land that chose to wither rather than to extend its crops. For fate, that let his people die but the Gods live. He was so angry that his fingers started shaking, and he could no longer know for certain if he’d hit his mark. 

He lowered the bow and exhaled. The chant behind him stuttered and then vanished, as if blown away by the wind. Jan squared his shoulders. 

“Do you doubt your purpose, Ja-een?” The Holova used the formal name, and Jan lowered his eyes in shame. He did not deserve it. 

“I don’t Kai-een,” he turned to look at the God, “I only want to do my duty. We have one arrow, and it will be the one that kills Veles.” 

Kai nodded, his plump cheeks raising with his smile. 

Jan was the best hunter of the tribe, a man whose bow held the name God Slayer. Even if he had never killed a God, his shot was so true that his people did not doubt him. Some even whispered that he was more than a man—possibly a descendant of huntress Devana, or maybe blessed by her arrows. 

It was that belief that allowed him to not doubt himself either. 

Jan exhaled and raised the bow once more, staring into the eye of his target. Veles, the God of the land, the tamer of the wild, was sitting in a peaceful slumber amidst the trees. His long white beard pooled between his crossed feet, wheat hair held back with a red threaded cloth. He wore no armor, only a white tunic that was embroidered with the same thread as his headpiece.This was his domain, and there was no need for him to worry. His guards, gray wolves and brown bears, were dozing near their master. This was the beauty of the last of winter days, when the God was still in hibernation and yet not hidden by the layers of the snow. 

The one time in a year when Jan could kill him. 

He pulled the string taut.

“The head,” Kai whispered, “right—” 

Veles stirred. Kai froze. His people seemed to stop breathing.

Jan only hesitated, but did not set down his bow. 

Then a howl pierced the air. 

“What is that?” someone from his tribe began to murmur. 

“It’s a sign is what it is!” another one shrieked. 

The murder of a God, even a bad one, was still a touchy subject. Veles might not have granted them crops, but who would, once he was dead? 

“We will plant our own trees once Veles can no longer hinder us,” Kai seemed to read his mind and respond, “he is no God. He is a murderer.” 

Jan nodded, his arm straining from the effort of keeping the bow pulled.

The trees above them shuddered, and he could now hear his people cursing behind him. Something was coming. He held his stance and let it come. 

More howls came, growing louder, fiercer. Even Kai near him stiffened, taking a step back.

Then the forest was plunged into silence. And somehow, Veles was no longer alone.

Atop his shoulder was now perched the guardian of the forest, a beautiful grey owl with piercing yellow eyes. This was no simple bird, couldn’t be. 

Jan would’ve never missed an animal appearing on his target. 

The whispers behind him started anew. 

“This is wrong, we shouldn’t be committing such a sin,” someone said through tears. 

“This is right! If the God can’t fill our bellies, he cannot stop our vengeance!" another one said. 

Jan held his bow. 

It wasn’t for him to decide what to think of the God, even if he couldn’t banish his anger. They had the Holova to think of such things. He would simply do what he was told. 

The owl stared at him with judgement, its feathers as still as its gaze. It seemed to mock him from its spot atop the God’s shoulder, questioning his choice. 

Or rather lack of. 

Did you think about the consequence of murdering a God? Or do you only follow the bidding of your Holova and choose to be a blind man?

Jan had to wonder if those thoughts were his own or truly the bird’s. 

“Do it now, while the guardian is placid,” Kai whispered, but did not take a step closer. 

Why did he step away? 

Stealing a glance at the Holova of the clan, Jan let himself wonder for a moment. His mother always told him that smart men drank wine and yet prepared for poison, while foolish drank poison and pretended it was wine. It was an odd saying, but standing between the God and the Holova, he took a moment to consider. 

Was he pretending that the poison of his doing would be turned to wine?

“Jan-een,” Kai looked straight at his hunter, “the children of our tribe are starving, the mothers die of cold. You know it too, when was the last time you brought game to the housing? Something larger than a hare?” 

Last spring, maybe the one before that. 

He didn’t say it out loud. 

The plump cheeks of the Holova rose with his smile. One that was meant to comfort. 

Why were his cheeks so plump? 

“Jan-een, I am the head, you are the heart. Each arrow is a beat, each kill, a life you bring your tribe. By killing a God, you will make a thousand beats. You will save a thousand lives. If you are not prepared to hold the blood of a heart, step away.” Kai’s voice turned rough by the end, and Jan felt the shame burn deep in his own chest. 

The chants of his clan started anew, older ones, their song low and deep.

He was the heart. 

The heart made its own decision. Not the Gods, not fate. 

Looking back at the God he stared into the eye of the guardian, and the guardian blinked. It was the first move it had made. It was the last.

Jan pinched the arrow harder. Braced his shoulder. Shot. 

The arrow hit its mark.  

Kai fell to the forest floor, an arrow protruding through his brow. 

A green sprout bloomed its way from the blood beneath him.