The night air was calm. Above the rolling hills, the stars were shining coldly, but they did not seem to care.
Elias was kneeling near the river, scrubbing away the last traces of soot from his hands. The blood flowing from the river was glowing red in the moonlight. The fire that was behind him was crackling low, and its light was reaching far into the woods.
Miren was sitting not far off, a cloak tightly wrapped around her. She kept her eyes fixed on him, and from the way he was breathing, she could see that he was very tense.
In fact, he had not uttered a word for hours.
When he finally stood up, his image was the one that he saw in the water — sickly, gaunt, disfigured by fire and grief. The tattoo under his skin was still.
Miren spoke softly, "You seem to have been awake all night."
"I don't dream anymore," Elias said.
She glanced at the fire. "Then what would be your motivation now?"
He stayed silent for a moment and then answered, "The dead."
Miren's eyes went up. "You mean the village people? The priests?"
"Yes, all of them. Every one of the souls that perished in the fire that I survived." His hand went to the sword, and with a piece of cloth, he cleaned the blade. "They hated me and called me cursed. But it was not the curse that caused the fire. It was God."
Miren agreed with him. "Faith has been the cause of more deaths than any weapon."
He stared at her. "Why then are you wearing the emblem?"
She pointed to the necklace which was around her neck. "I want them to see what they have destroyed. To remind them of what they threw away."
He remained silent. The wind was carrying the faint pine and rain scent.
At some point, Miren said, "You are going to fight them."
Elias looked out towards the pitch-black sky. "The Inquisition is holding a fortress in the valley of Thariel where they have been collecting relics of us — the things that they say that they will be destroying, but in reality, are just hiding them. That's where, if there are any records of the Purge, they will be."
"And if there aren't any?"
"In that case, I will be setting fire to the remains."
Her smile was like a ghost. "You sound like the voice inside you."
Elias's face got serious. "I am not the one who carries it."
"Do you really think so?"
He didn't look away from her. "It is I who decides who gets to suffer."
Her voice got lower. "Then, I suppose that you must be the one to decide."
Before the sun was even up they were already moving. On the way to Thariel, they had to pass through the forest of black pines that led into a foggy valley.
Coming midday, they could see the remnants of old watchtowers carved out of the cliffs. Long ago, these towers were the border guards of the Faith. Presently, they stood deserted - symbols of a planet that was losing its gods.
Miren was on the lead, with her staff making a gentle sound as it hit the rocks. Elias was right behind her, quiet, and watching the forest for any movement.
"Do you ever think," she said, "what lies they might have told others about you?"
"I have heard the sermons," he said. "The heretic who talked with fire. The one chosen who made holy things unclean."
"One of the things they say is that you Betray the Light," she said.
Almost laughing, Elias said, "Well, then they sure got it right."
Near nightfall, they went over a broken bridge. Under it was the valley floor covered with a thick layer of mist. Some lights could just be made out there — the fortress' lights.
Miren's walk was halted as she looked at the place with narrowed eyes. "I didn't think it would be this big."
"They did it so the faith could be chained," Elias said. "And if faith is made of lies, I guess it will keep them just as well."
They were in an abandoned outpost when the storm hit. Looking down from there, they could see the fortress below. There were torches all along the fortress walls. The main door was being guarded by iron gates. The keep was being supported by two towers on either side of it, whose windows were lit up with a soft glow from within.
Miren was drawing figures on the ground — an ancient protective prayer, although she was no longer saying it out loud. "How many soldiers?"
"More than we can handle," Elias replied. "Yet, the mark is shining brightly there. It is being attracted by something inside."
"Then let's get in."
"We can't. Not yet. A plan is still needed."
Miren had a mischievous smile on her face. "You think like a soldier."
"That was my profession, before faith turned us into executioners."
They held their breath until the fog came up again. It was very dense and it was covering the valley floor like waves. The light of the torches was getting weaker and weaker.
Without making any noise, Elias and Miren went down the hill. The surface was slippery and air was quite heavy.
There were two guards near the wall. Elias went behind the first one, he was very fast and silent. He only needed to flash his sword once and the cut was perfect. The second one saw it almost immediately but it was already too late. Miren's staff hit his head with a great force.
They put the corpses in the thicket.
At the bottom of the wall, Elias discovered an old drain that was half-covered with dirt. He put his hand on the old iron door. The sign lit up in red. The metal made a noise like it was burning and then it was gone.
They didn't hesitate to go in.
The tunnel was full of the smell of wet stone and old blood. The dripping from the roof was taking place in a slow and steady rhythm.
At the other end, there was a dim light. The voices heard were low and calm.
To keep the noise off, Elias waved his hand. They decided to come out of the shadows and walk till the end of the tunnel where it led to a huge room.
The place was stuffed with old things — beautiful idols, broken prayer discs, and sealed tomes. A table covered with papers was standing in the middle. Two Inquisitors were very busy with them, their metal shining in the light of the lamp.
Miren said in a low voice, "Records."
Elias responded by nodding his head. "Be careful."
They were very clever to behave like this. While Miren was moving to the left, Elias was coming from the right. The very first thing the Inquisitor did was to look towards the sound of a very soft scraping of a boot. Before he could even get the chance to shout, he got his throat cut by Elias's blade.
The second one hit with his mace. Elias was able to stop it, he moved to the side and twisted his body. The mark lit up. The fire quickly found its way from his arm to the metal. The sword got very hot very quickly.
When the mace hit the blade, it was followed by a loud crack as it was broken into pieces.
The individual took a step back, disbelief was evident in his eyes. "Blasphemer—"
Once more, Elias was there with a lethal blow. No sound could be heard but that of the dying breath.
Miren arrived to the side of Elias and looked at the table.
"They were making duplicates of these ones."
Elias was looking through a piece of paper that was rolled up. The ink on it was still wet. It also had the stamp of the High Citadel.
He started to read the text:
"The Marked One is still alive. Efforts to keep the situation under control have failed. It is said that the fire does not die out but rather that it spreads. Recommendation: purification by fire."
She was clenching her fists very hard. "Therefore, they attempted it once more."
With a very tight jaw, Elias replied, "Until they are willing to try it, there will be no end to that."
He looked at the remaining scrolls. One was a list of people where his eyes stopped. A lot of them had been crossed out. His name was at the bottom. Right underneath his name, written in a much darker ink, was another one: Sister Miren of Aelora.
She stopped completely by the time she saw it. "They anticipated."
Elias then responded by looking at her. "You were on their hit list."
Her voice was trembling. "It was said that I escaped with heretics. That I was in league with fire."
Looking at her, he said, "But they didn't make mistake."
Her face getting colder and colder. "So why don't we give them the one thing they are most afraid of—the truth?"
They collected whatever they could and exited the vault. The passageway spiraled up, leading to the tower.
While they were ascending, Elias could feel the brand pulsing. A noise came into his head — the same whisper, nearer now, desperate.
"They watch you, even here. The eye of the sky sees through rock".
He tightened his teeth. "Then let it see."
"Would you dare go against Heaven itself?"
"I already have."
The voice chuckled quietly — not ridicule, but admiration. "Then you are ready".
They walked into an enormous chamber. Iron chains were dangling from the ceiling. The farthest part of the room was occupied by a large brazier, lit with blue and cold flames. Inquisitors were seen kneeling around it for their prayers.
A grand priest in black robe was standing in front of them. His voice was loud and clear throughout the chamber.
"Brothers of the Flame. The Marked is among us. His sin is spreading. His fire is corrupting the faithful. However, we will purify the world over again."
Mysteriously Elias was coming out of the darkness. "Then do not waste time. Start with me."
The priest looked at him. His face was all surprised. "Elias."
Miren's voice was cutting. "You know him?"
To the questioning he responded raising his staff, "Once he was one of us. A sword of the Faith. Up to when the fire took him."
Elias unsheathed his sword. The red mark on his body highlighted. "So you are aware of the finale."
The priest motioned. The Inquisitors, as a unanimous decision, turned, and armed themselves, following the gesture of the priest.
Movement filled the hall.
The first assault Elias countered with a downward blow. His blade was a fiery line of destruction as it cut through the armor and the flesh of the enemy. Fire trailed every blow, devouring the metal and the bone.
Miren was at his side, staff rotating, hitting throats and knees with a fast, accurate, and merciless rhythm.
The priest's voice rose in a chant. The brazier's flame increased to a bright and vivid blue, spreading across the floor. The mark on Elias's chest was burning against it.
Once again he heard the whisper. "Take it. Feed the flame".
"No," he said.
"You will die if you continue resisting".
"Then I die free."
With great force Elias impaled the brazier with his sword. The fire was loud. The whole world seemed to be white for a short time.
After the light, the hall was calm. In the foreground, the Inquisitors' corpses were lying with their charred armor. The priest was among them, kneeling, half-burned and gasping for air.
Elias came closer. "You wanted purification through prayers. Was it Heaven that answered?"
The man's voice was fading. "You are the embodiment of the curse.
Elias brought his weapon up. "Then allow the curse to say its word."
He hit. The fire came out again, and then, it went out.
After the event, Elias dropped down on the floor. The mark slowly disappeared, leaving only the pain behind.
Miren went up to him, her expression scared by the changing light. "You stopped it."
He disagreed. "No. I brought it out."
She knelt down with him. "What now?"
He saw his hands covered with blood. "Now I swear."
He went up, holding his sword high. "I swear on this very fire — I will tear down their temples, their angels, their gods. I will be the end of the faith that caused the fire of this world."
Miren didn't blink. "Then let me be a witness."
The mark sounded its one and only pulse, slow and deep, as if it was an agreement.
It was thunder that split the sky outside. The rain was turning into ash.
And in the center of Thariel, among the rubble and the fire, Elias changed to be something new — not a soldier anymore, not a believer anymore, but the very oath made real.
The Blood Oath.