Jagged fragments of night sprouted from Felix's arched back and cut through the hearth's light.
He fell to his knees, hands splayed against the stone to keep from collapsing entirely, and let out a deep, guttural growl of discomfort. The dark visage that was now his face, obscured behind his Shroud, turned toward me and exhaled a breath of smoking chill.
Keeping my eyes locked on Theron's hands, I nodded and allowed him to go. The scrape of claws against stone was the only sound he left behind as he surged forward on all fours — a prowling shard of night sky loosed among terrified villagers.
The agitated shadow pulsing around the wound I had dealt him blurred beneath his sudden movement, leaving a trail of dread in his wake as it followed his path to the open door, before vanishing into the rain outside.
"Fuckin' paladins, then?" Theron asked, unmoved by Felix's departure, his hands resting on the axe hafts. "Now that should get fun," he continued, his gaze flicking between the gaping entrance and me.
"We don't have to do this, Theron. Just let us go, and nobody has to get hurt, I can promise you that." I tried to reason with him, but the promise of violence hanging in the air suggested otherwise.
"I'm not sure what I have to do, friend," Theron said, his lips curving into a smile beneath tired eyes. "But I do know I'll regret doing nothing."
He snapped the axe from his left side and hurled it toward my head, its edge flashing in the hearth-light.
I thought I had read his stance and dodged the swirling axe head, turning my torso on beat with the throw, only to realize he was already charging at me, a second axe gripped in his right hand, teeth clenched, eyes hungry for a crimson sight.
Trying to draw my sword and block him would have been too slow for the reaction time I had left — instead, I swept the red cloth from my back and snapped it toward his hand, managing only to obscure his sight for a heartbeat, long enough to reposition and draw my weapon from its sheath, a sliver of distance now separating us.
Theron tore my cape free from his axe and flung it aside, letting it fall near the burning hearth. He lowered his massive frame, coiling for another charge.
I glanced at the axe head still buried in the wooden wall behind me from his first throw, then back to his now-empty left hand.
"Want me to fetch that for you?" I asked, bracing myself for the next attack.
"I was hoping I'd be yanking it out of your skull by now, friend," he replied, barking a laugh as he moved again. His grip loosened on the axe before he swung, sliding his hand lower along the weathered haft and driving the shimmering edge straight toward my ribs.
I brought my sword up to block — and he stepped in just enough to force the impact onto the wood beneath the axe head.
In a single sweeping motion, he hooked the curve of the axe around my blade and wrenched it forward, dragging me toward him unless I was willing to let the sword slip from my grasp.
I let go of my sword at the very peak of his pull, stealing his balance just long enough to drive a clean kick into his groin.
Theron doubled over, the breath torn from his throat, hand still wrapped around his axe. I followed with a quick right to his jaw, but the impact barely slowed him.
Unarmed now, I rushed for the axe buried in the wall beside me before he could recover.
The sound of rain rushed into the room, faint shouts and screams bleeding through with it as the wind set the hearth-light flickering.
I tore the axe free from the wooden wall and fixed both hands around its grip.
"Ha!" Theron barked, straightening to his full height as he saw the axe in my hands. "You're going to fetch it after all, then? Come closer, friend — let me take that back from you."
He began to close the distance slowly, sweeping my fallen sword aside with his muddy boot.
Last chance to back out, Theron. I'll regret spilling your blood," I told him, closing the distance slowly.
"And what are you going to do, soldier?" Theron replied. "Dress yourself like your friend and tear me to pieces? I've seen it a couple of times — messy work, but quick. Come on, then. Teach me how a paladin is defeated, friend."
The thought surfaced unbidden. To call upon the gift.
What if I can't hold it long enough?
Lapurum had been hard on my body.
And harder still on my soul.
I spat aside and braced myself.
"Let a paladin teach you humility first, friend," I said, and went for him — axe held close, dashing to his right.
I used the momentum to swing the axe with my right arm as hard as I could, driving the back of the blade into Theron's left knee. Bracing for a body shot, I crushed the joint instead, sending him stumbling before he dropped to one leg.
I was already lining up his head on the backswing, the axe curving upward —
He caught it under his own weapon, denying me the strike and hauling it down with all his strength, spit flying from between clenched teeth.
He dragged me low enough to slam his shaggy skull into my face. A crunch echoed through my bones, white sparks bursting across my vision.
I staggered back, shaking my head — just long enough for Theron's paw to hook my leg and wrench me onto my back.
Salt and copper filled my mouth. The sound of metal striking the floor dragged me back just before my vision dimmed again — this time beneath the terrible mass of Theron's body looming over me.
His face was slick and flushed from the effort, eyes hard. A single boot scraped against the floor as he shifted his weight, a heavy grunt following the motion.
The voices from outside had ceased. The rain went on, restless and unbroken.
I tried to lift my head from the cold floor, but the hearth-light flared off the steel near my eyes.
"No, you don't, friend," Theron said, pressing the edge of his axe to my cheek. A warm trail streaked down my skin.
I tried to read his stance, searching for any way to turn this.
The axe's edge kept my attention locked in place.
"Thank you for reminding me to drill more often, paladin," Theron said, steadying himself for the killing blow.
"Until we meet again, Southerner."
He raised the axe high over his head.
Sound ceased for a heartbeat. The rain vanished. The pulse in my ears dulled to nothing, Theron's deep, tired breathing fading with it.
Light filled everything.
Warm.
Sharp.
Blazing.
Holy.
Every opening in the circular room became a river for it to pour through.
Shit. Sister Adrian had engaged.
I had to go.
Now.
The light died as suddenly as it had been born, leaving Theron blinking and cursing, the axe still poised to fall.
With my vision still blurred, I went for it. I jerked my torso and kicked out with both legs toward where I guessed Theron's should have been.
My aim wasn't perfect — most of the force landed against his thigh — but it was enough. He toppled sideways, the blow coming too fast for him to recover, and fell hard, his temple striking the stone.
A thud.
A crunch.
A grunt.
Theron lay on his side, a small pool of blood spreading beneath his brown hair.
I leaned my head back for just a moment. Long enough to draw breath.
The world yawned open beneath me, a dark pull I had to fight. I jolted myself upright, denying it any hold.
I wiped the blood from my face, thick trails running from my nose, and spat pink onto the floor.
I half-crawled toward the fallen axe, the mountain of him lying beside it.
Was he dead?
A deep snore answered me.
"Thank the gods," I muttered, "for giving you a skull thick enough, friend."
I dragged myself upright.
Unsteady on my feet, I knew I wouldn't reach the church in time like this.
I might have spared Theron from having to face my gift.
But I could not spare myself now.
I whispered my prayer, the words leaving my throat in a hush.
Regardless, the Sisters answered.
I felt it tracing through me.
A line of ice marking its path, caressing flesh before boiling the darkness within back to the surface.
I smelled my skin burn anew.
As the Shroud wrapped the Sister's loving embrace around my chest, the pain returned, searing and familiar.
Old screams followed. Old friends. Old enemies.
Thaddeus was calling my name. Calling for help.
Light stabbed at my eyes now. My bunched cape lay bright red near the hearth.
My sword waited on the scratched stone, hungry.
Theron's irregular heartbeat thudded beneath his skull.
The eyes of the Hierophant coming back, burned into me.
The Shroud churned over my arms and chest — unrefined, raw — stabs of pain reopening old wounds as waves of unbearable heat ebbed and surged.
Meminisse, officium meum.
(To remember, my duty.)
My nose burned, as if Theron's blow had just landed.
Ad commemorandum, donum eorum.
(To remind, their gift.)
I moved, snatching up my sword and cape.
Oblivioni tradere, nostra exitium.
(To forget, our undoing.)
The rain outside felt lighter, falling slower.
Four bodies lay scattered in the mud, distant from one another.
One dead.
One breathing.
A third, struggling to do the same.
The fourth was Felix — collapsed near our cart, breathing hard.
I could hear the hiss of raindrops evaporating as they touched a scorched surface.
I heard her then, pleading for me to stay.
A small disk of glowing orange stone had appeared on the left wall of the church, vapors spilling upward into the gloom beyond.
They must still be inside. But with who else?
The older villager,Akeman, lay face down in the mud, his leg paces away, torn from the root.
Tormod lay breathing on the ground, rain washing over the claw marks raked across his chest.
Another man, the one who must have been Oldo, lay slumped against a wooden post, his back braced against it, his face a crumpled ruin, breathing through bubbling spit and blood.
I dashed, driven by the Sisters' gift, feeling the Shroud bite deeper into me — into who I was.
Grief.
Loss.
Consequence.
Each rapid step carried me closer to the gaping stone maw of the church.
Let it out.
Her unmistakable melody urged me on.
Show them what you are, my sweet paladin.
She pressed closer.
Show me.
I reached the entrance, and with the final few steps I let the world reclaim me,the cold rain needling my skin, my memories dimming as exhaustion crashed back into my body.