A/N: Essentially serves as a prequel to All are Equal, but written as a stand alone.
Warnings: Discussion of child death, child cruelty, offscreen child death.
Chapter 1: Sickness is (not) Equal, Sickness is (not) Fair
Heket stood at the edge of a large pond in her domain, gazing out over a clutch of eggs, one that numbered easily in the hundreds, with no small amount of dismay. Surely, they weren't all going to hatch, were they? She dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. No that was ridiculous. Just because there were hundreds of eggs, it didn't mean that was inevitable; Their father, who had been selected from her most devout and most loyal followers, was a mortal, and even though she was a god, that didn't necessitate them all being viable.
She considered penning a message to the other Bishops informing them of the development but pulled a face when she imagined them gawking and making comments on the sheer amount, even if she herself was guilty of the same. But it was something she could do without and so decided to wait until the eggs had hatched before breaking the news.
She returned to check on them daily, observing their development from egg to embryo.
When she moved about the clutch, wading through the water carefully, the change was happening everywhere she looked. Surely they weren't all going to hatch, were they? Again she dismissed the idea, shaking it from her head. Just because they were all developing, it didn't mean they were all going to survive to hatching. She turned her thoughts to other matters; Could they see her, she wondered, as she peered at them closely. Or hear her? It didn't seem unreasonable to assume the latter at least, since sound carried through water, and so she began singing to them during her inspections.
On the twenty-first day, they began actively moving within the transparent jelly. Again, this was occurring everywhere she looked. Surely they weren't all going to hatch, were they? The thought could not be shaken from her head this time, or rather, she could no longer continue to deny the reality. But… just because they were all going to hatch that didn't mean they were all going to survive… right?
The next day she returned to find they had hatched overnight, filling the pond with hundreds of tiny tadpoles which were now resting or sleeping near the shoreline among the reeds, or under the lily pads. They did not respond to her presence, so she let them sleep, returning to check on them the following day. "Mama!" They cried out, in squeaky little voices as she waded into the pond. They wiggled their little bodies as they tried to swim to her. "Mama, Mama!" But they were not yet able to swim very well, or very far, and the farthest ones exhausted themselves before they had reached her.
She felt something stir within her chest at the sight, a feeling both familiar yet new. Familiar as she recalled fond memories of her younger brothers as small children, yet new, as these were her children now invoking this feeling. She smiled. "Hello, my children." But it slipped off her face as her gaze swept over their many, many little faces. A small fraction had perished overnight as she had anticipated, but it was far, far less than needed. Would more perish still, she wondered, and decided to once again delay contacting the other Bishops until she was certain.
Over the next week, the tadpoles grew in size, strength and appetite. And it became increasingly apparent to her that any that had been too weak to survive, had already perished in their first or second days of life. The rest were strong. The rest would live. And they would increase the population of Anura by a number of hundreds. She massaged her forehead with one hand as she wondered if she was overthinking the matter. But they were no ordinary children; They were her children. And though less than a god, they were more than a mortal. What would happen if such numbers were allowed to flood her domain? If this were to happen every spawning? There was only one she could turn to for advice, so she returned to her temple to pen a letter to Shamura requesting their presence at their earliest convenience and awaited a response.
Heket was seated upon her throne listening to her followers' requests, when another follower rushed in, falling to their knees before her. "Great Leader, Bishop Shamura has arrived and seeks an audience."
She rose. "Very well, you are all dismissed. I must attend to this immediately." And swept out of the throne room. Shamura was waiting in the entrance hall, their attention momentarily arrested by one of the pumpkin lanterns serving as both lighting and decoration. They turned away on hearing her approach, and she bowed her head in deference to her elder sibling. "Thank you for coming, Shamura."
Shamura inclined their head in turn. "Your message requested my advice. What is it that troubles you, sister?"
"It would be better to show you," she sighed. "Follow me." She led Shamura to the pond but held back to let them go first. They stopped at the pond's edge and peered in. Some of the tadpoles noticed their presence and swum over in curiosity. "So many tadpoles," they commented.
"Mama?" One of them asked.
They smiled. "I am not your mother, little one." They straightened suddenly as they put two and two together and turned to Heket, though the question remained unspoken.
Heket joined them at the water's edge and the tadpoles reacted immediately. "Mama!" They cried out, drawing the attention of their siblings. "Mama!" Soon hundreds of tadpoles were swarming the water before her, their voices joining together in a wordless din.
Heket smiled down at them. "Hello, my children."
Shamura's eyes had gone very wide and shiny. "Sister! Why did you not tell me sooner!" Before she could answer, they were wading into the pond amongst the tadpoles. "Come here, my little ones. Let me look at you." They held out their hands below the water in invitation and the tadpoles flocked to them, hungry for attention. When Shamura was satisfied that they had seen enough, they waded out of the pond, rejoining Heket at the water's edge.
"Concealing their existence was not my intention, sibling," she explained. "I was just… uncertain how many would survive until now."
"Yes," they glanced at the tadpoles before teasing, "you have been productive, sister." And smiled when Heket gaped at them in astonishment.
"Shamura!" She objected as her face burned.
They chuckled before the humour faded from their expression. "But that is why you have called me here, isn't it? You need advice on how to, well… manage their numbers."
"Then you would agree? That their numbers must be, as you say, managed?"
They nodded absently as they gazed out over the pond. "Yes… They are no ordinary children after all. So who can say how well your domain would fare if their numbers were left unchecked, especially if they have inherited your appetite."
Heket sighed and closed her eyes. In truth it was that which she feared; Her children sharing the insatiable appetite she had had as both a tadpole and a froglet. She gripped the edges of her cloak. "What do I do, sibling?" Shamura hummed and sat down on a nearby rock while Heket took to pacing the water's edge. They spared one set of eyes to watch the tadpoles follow her up and down, gazing up at her in adoration, and smiled. "I cannot pass judgement on them without method. In order to reduce their numbers it must be fair. Equal. A test. But what test?"
"A test of strength," Shamura supplied. "A test to discover the strongest."
"And most worthy," she agreed. "But… how?"
They looked at the tadpoles. A fight to the death was clearly out of the question. They were too young, too… innocent; They wouldn't understand what they were being asked to do… Unless Shamura made them… "Something should be done to them," they spoke absently. "Something that will let matters take it's own course."
Heket stopped pacing to turn to them. "Such as?"
Shamura met her gaze. "I could make them fight to the death if you so wished…"
She swallowed and looked away. "… I see…"
"You find the idea… distasteful?" Heket said nothing. "They are your children after all."
"It would reduce their numbers by half at least. But where would you stop? Until there was only one left?"
Shamura conceded the point with a hum. "Have Kallamar inflict a sickness upon them," was their next suggestion. "They will suffer, but the strong will survive."
Heket nodded absently. "Yes… Sickness is equal. Sickness is fair." She gazed out over the tadpoles. "But not yet… they are too young."
Shamura followed her gaze. "Such a lamentable fate," they sighed.
"Yes," she agreed. "But it is necessary," she continued, speaking more to herself than Shamura. "It must be done."
"Indeed." After a moment of silence they stood. "They will have to be prepared."
"Then I will prepare them." She bowed her head in deference once again. "Thank you for your advice, Shamura."
Shamura smiled as they inclined their head in turn. "Always, dearest Heket." They took their leave, sinking into the pool of darkness that had materialised at their feet, and Heket turned back to her tadpoles. Now the only question left was when.
When the tadpoles had grown big enough to begin crowding the pond with both their size and numbers, she decided that now was the time. That only the strongest should be allowed to mature into froglets. So she penned a message to Kallamar summoning him to her temple and awaited a response. The next morning she was in her study when a follower rushed in, falling to their knees before her. "Great Leader, Bishop Kallamar has arrived and seeks an audience." Excellent. She snapped the book in her hand closed, returned it to the shelf and swept from the room.
Kallamar was waiting in the entrance hall, glancing nervously around at the decorations. He bowed his head to her in deference when she finally arrived. "Sister Heket, I received your message. How may I assist you?"
"Follow me," she replied simply. "I will show you." He followed her obediently though with a mildly confused expression and she led him to the pond. When she approached the water's edge, the tadpoles reacted to her presence as they always did, calling out and swarming the water before her, and she smiled down at them fondly. "Hello, my children."
"Children?" Kallamar repeated with wide eyes. "You have children?"
"Yes," she replied simply. "As I explained to Shamura, concealing their existence was not my intention. I had simply decided to wait until a solution to their numbers had been found. But this is why you are here."
Understandably he looked confused. "What do you mean?"
She gestured to the pond. "You see before you my predicament?"
He glanced out over the hundreds of tadpoles. "Yes, you have…" He quailed under her withering expression and gulped, the words dying on his tongue. "… Y-yes, sister. I see your predicament."
"I called you here to inflict an illness upon them. But one that will diminish their numbers, not kill them all."
Kallamar looked perplexed. "I can control the severity of the illness, but not how it will affect them. Are you sure you want to do this?"
She nodded. "Their numbers must be reduced, brother. It is necessary. It must be done."
He sighed and bowed his head in acquiescence. "As you wish, sister. It will be done." He waded into the pond and the tadpoles flocked around him in curiosity. He spared them a look of pity before raising his arms aloft. Energy streamed from him and into their bodies and they cried out all at once as the sickness rapidly took hold, and they sank to the pond floor.
"How long?" She asked once he had rejoined her side.
"A week," he replied. "Perhaps longer."
She nodded. "Then thank you, Kallamar, that will be all. You may return to your domain." He bowed his head in deference but did not leave. She eyed him. "Is there something else?"
"S-sister, I…" He clasped his hands together in pleading. "P-please do not blame me if this goes wrong…"
Her expression softened and she sighed. "You will not be blamed, brother, the decision was mine."
He bowed his head again in relief. "Thank you." Then took his leave this time, vanishing into a pool of darkness.
"Mamaa," the tadpoles wailed.
"This is a test, my children," she told them. "Only the strongest of you will survive." But she hesitated before returning to her temple. There she penned a message to Shamura informing them of the development, and that the survivors would be determined in a week's time should they desire to be the first to meet them.
A week later, Heket returned to the pond to complete silence. At the water's edge she received no welcome. "My children?" She called out, gazing out over their eerily still forms, but received no response. She waded into the pond with mounting dread but everywhere she looked, every tadpole she overturned confirmed her suspicions; There was not a single survivor. Every last one of them had perished.
She stood in the middle of the pond, surrounded by the corpses of her dead children, her mind a blank. She gripped the edges of her cloak until her hands shook. Until the tears building in her eyes began rolling down her face. Until she dropped to her knees and a sob tore itself from her throat. How could this have gone so disastrously wrong? How could they all have perished? Had it been too soon? Had the sickness been too strong? Was there something she should've done while they were suffering that would've averted this outcome? If there were answers to these questions, she could not find them.
When Shamura arrived at the pond, emerging from a pool of darkness, it was also to complete silence. Heket was kneeling in the centre of the pond, staring at nothing, saying nothing. They sucked in a breath involuntarily and their eyes watered at the sight of so many dead tadpoles littering the pond floor. They gripped the edge of their cloak and waded into the pond. "All of them, sister?" They asked. Heket nodded wordlessly and Shamura knelt beside her. They gently scooped up one of the tadpoles' bodies into their arms to examine them. They had grown since Shamura had seen them last and had been entering the interim stage between tadpole and froglet. This one was also unequivocally dead, so they placed the tadpole back with a sigh. "Perhaps… if they were older…" They ventured. She nodded wordlessly again, and they both sat in silence.
Time slipped away from them until eventually Heket rose, as did Shamura, and they both waded out of the pond. "I will have my followers attend to this… mess…" she said.
"What will you do with their bodies?" They found themselves asking.
"They were diseased," she replied simply. "So they must be burned."
"Of course…" They replied. Heket began to walk away. "Sister," they said. "I am… sorry…"
She half-turned back in surprise. "Your apology is unnecessary, sibling. The fault was not yours." They watched her depart, and spared one last look at the pond before heaving a sigh and departing themselves. Perhaps next time would go better?
A/N: Meanwhile in Narinder's domain; Narinder: What the heck is happening? o_o Where'd all these tadpoles come from?