Rain beat down on the destroyed village as if it were a blessing withheld. The air burned with the smell of the charred roofs and corpses soaked in oil. Elias was on his way through the devastation but he did not speak a word. Despite the fact that his cloak was drifting with him, it was so heavy and dark. The horse's hooves ran over the puddles which were stained with blood.
It was three days since the massacre at Greyston and since the mark had flared and leaving a trail of lifeless bodies. He told himself that it had been self-defense all along—but now he doesn't even think so. Every night, he can still hear their screams when he shuts his eyes.
And under them, always, the murmur.
"They would have done the same to you. The strong endure, the weak perish."
He shoved his hand against his chest, sensing the weak throb under his ribs. The mark glowed very softly as though it were alive to his disgrace.
His way was through the woods and to the shore. Somewhere past the cliffs, there was the contact he was looking for—one of the old days, before the Sanctum fell.
Someone he trusted.
Or thought he did.
I. The Messenger
Elias got to the abandoned chapel just before dark.
The building was sitting on a hillside, almost covered with vines and very quiet. The bell had been removed. The door was open and hanging from the only remaining hinge. Inside, the air was damp but there was some light from the candles.
A man was waiting for him there—he was tall, and slim, and had a scar going down his right cheek. Kalen Veyne was his name. A long time ago, both Kalen and Elias had been students, and trained in the Sanctum's watchtower. Kalen was a scout—fast, sharp, and very hard to catch.
But now the emblem on his cape was that of the Inquisition.
"Elias." His tone was very polite and almost friendly. "Compared to your last visit, you are in a worse state."
Elias came nearer. His boots made a scraping sound against the stone. "You've donned a very odd color, Kalen. Your hunters' emblem doesn't fit you at all."
Kalen gave a sarcastic smile. "It is literally the same thing. Times evolve – one has to adapt to survive."
"Have you now got the nerve to say betrayal?"
The scout's hand went up towards his belt but stopped. "You've always talked like one of the clergy."
"And I was one."
"Was." Kalen eyed him critically. "But now you are something different."
Elias clenched his teeth. "I am at your place because you sent the message. You said that you could assist me and you had the answers."
"I do have them." Kalen's voice became gentle. "But you really need to trust me, brother."
Elias looked at him closely. The rain outside was getting heavier and it was making a lot of noise on the roof as if it were warning them in whispers. "I trusted you before," he said. "That was before the Sanctum got scorched."
"And the Seraphim I trusted, were they the ones who condemned us all."
Elias was reaching for his sword. "Just say what you mean, Kalen."
The other man's eyes shifted—guilt, very brief and very sharp. "The Inquisition is aware of the mark. They know you are alive. They are the ones who sent me to find you."
Elias did not move.
"And it was you who guided them here?"
Kalen was shocked. "I was trying to keep them from coming. To give you the warning. I wasn't free to choose."
"And that's what everyone says before they get the knife in their back."
"Listen to me, Elias." Kalen moved a step nearer. "What you don't understand is that there are more things at stake. They're of the opinion that the mark is a source—that the demon who branded you is the one to get through the veil. If they get to you first, to stop it, they'll set you on fire."
Elias looked at him with disbelief. "What do you think?"
Kalen was not so sure himself. "I think that you are my friend."
Suddenly- boots, metal, shouting-
I widened his eyes at the sound.
Noticing the sound with his eyes, Kalen's face went from calm to shock. "I didn't expect them to be here so early."
Elias raged against his tiredness. "You are the reason he is here."
"I really didn't bring them-"
Elias opened his blade.
The door was smashed the Inquisitors running fast to the chapel. They had their weapons and armor. They kept the torches in the rain, and the flames were accompanied by a hiss. Leading the group was a woman in white armor, the badge on her tabard was the sunburst of the Holy See. Her face was angular, and her eyes were of a colder nature than the glass.
"By the authority of the Sanctified Throne," she proclaimed, "Elias Ardent is heretic and fiend. Therefore he is to be taken into custody. Arrest him."
Elias retreated with his sword raised. His heart was thumping hard. The mark was glowing even brighter through his coat. "Kalen," he whispered, "leave."
"I am not able to," Kalen responded in a whisper. His hand was shaking by his side. "They have my sister. They threatened to—"
Elias broke his anger. "Consequently, you handed me over?"
Kalen's eyes brimmed with sorrow. "Please forgive me."
"No." Elias uttered with a hollow voice "I forgave once. It cost me all I had."
The inquisitors moved forward. The mark blazed.
The demon's voice, aching and evil, came back.
"Kill them. All of them."
Elias resisted that impulse. He clenched his teeth and kept the mark quiet, by his own will. "I will not."
"Then die."
Astonishment awoke in his chest. His view shimmered with scarlet. A fire, like a serpent, came twining around his arm and traveled his sword.
The inquisitors stopped, looking to one another for advice.
Their leader yelled, "Put a stop to him!"
Acting without thinking, Elias's body was like a flash of lightning. His sword hit the target with the force and speed of a thunderbolt. The fire flew from his hand in graceful curves, tearing apart both shields and chain mail. The horrifying wailing of the injured and dying reverberated in the chapel.
He caught sight of Kalen pulling out his dagger only to look at him with a heavy heart and then turn away.
Elias forced his way through the crowd, cutting another enemy down as he did so.
The roof was on fire. Wood was coming down. The smoke that covered the whole place was thick.
During the fire and debris, Elias noticed the commander making her escape. Taking a shot at her, Kalen intervened by standing in front of her and him.
"Elias—don't!"
Elias attacked. The sword stabbed into Kalen's side.
Kalen inhaled sharply. His dagger dropped from his hand and hit the floor with a metallic sound.
For a short time, the two were speechless.
The trembling in Elias's hands was quite visible. The mark got lighter. "No…"
Kalen dropped down on his knees, holding the place where he was stabbed. "You… are the last thing I would have ever thought of dying this way," Elias muttered.
Kalen's breathing was quite shallow now. "Nor were you,"
The commander's shout echoed: "Withdraw! The demon's strength is increasing!"
The inquisitors ran off into the storm. Elias lowered himself down beside Kalen, trying to stop the bleeding with his hand
"Why?" he inquired, his broken manner of speech. "Why did you summon me?"
Kalen's glance went toward the destroyed altar. "Because… it was your right to know. The mark was not a mishap. The Sanctum's leaders… have long ago sealed their fate with a pact. Long before the fall. Heaven turned its back on them, and they went looking for another power."
Elias was like a statue. "You are lying."
Kalen brought in a harsh cough with blood. "The demon whose voice you hear, why don't you ask him? He was their gift. And you are their proof."
Elias grabbed his friend's shoulder. "Don't leave me."
Kalen gave him a faint smile. "Even then… I never stopped trusting you." Your luck he says - and he turned his eyes away… His hand went down and his eyes lost their light.
Elias stayed there on his knees for quite a while until the storm was over.
The fire had gone out. The whispers that were once heard were now quiet. All that was left was the mark that shone softly and was quite lonely.
He laid Kalen away under the chapel floor and covered him with the pieces of stone. The phrases were difficult to say. "May the Light come to you," he said. "Though it may not come to me."
When he went out, the sun was already coming up over the woods. The smoke that was coming out of the ruins looked like a last prayer.
The demon said once more, this time in a much quieter voice,
"Now you understand. They were deceiving you long before he ever did."
Elias was silent.
He walked toward the east, toward the sea.
II. The Inquisitor's Report
Days later, a scroll reached the citadel at Valenhold.
Subject: Elias Ardent
Status: Uncontained.
Casualties: Eight confirmed dead, including Kalen Veyne.
Description: Subject demonstrates increasing fusion between mortal and infernal essence. Mark now visible from thirty paces. Engagement without relic containment is forbidden.
Recommendation: Extermination order renewed. Deploy Seraphic agents if necessary.
Signed,
Inquisitor Commander Serah Vale.
She sealed the scroll with wax and set it aside. For a long time, she stared at the flame of a single candle on her desk.
Her aide stepped in. "Commander, it is the will of the High Prelate. You should get back to the capital at once."
She didn't acknowledge the aide. "You can let him know that I will be on my way when the heretic is burned."
The aide seemed uncertain. "Ma'am, your faith—"
"Is none of his concern."
After the departure of the aide, Serah took off her glove. A mark on her wrist, under the skin, similar to Elias's but of a golden color instead of red, was glowing.
She brought her finger to it, speaking in a very soft tone. "Forgive me, brother."
The flame of the candle danced with the wind, and it died.
The woods murmured of death during that week. People told about a man covered in ash, who came no one but walked. A few alleged that his eyes flashed like glowing embers. Some others asserted that they saw a seraph shedding tears on a peak as the daybreak was bleeding red.
Yet, the stories had a single point in common:
Elias Ardent was not going to make up his way.
He wanted the truth.
And the globe was set to be blazing in order to do so.