Part One: The Outcast
"She understands Avraham."
"I know… that isn't the consolation you think it is, Iggor."
Iggor looked at the man with the thick dark curls, beard heavy with grey, and a warm brown complexion. He was a friend, and this day, his friend's heart was heavier than usual.
"Sarah should go into labor any day now. Are you sure you can't delay this trip till then?" Iggor asked; he knew the answer, but he needed his friend to recall it.
"I… cannot," Avraham replied quietly. "If I miss this ship, after everything I've seen…"
He let out a hollow laugh. "That's the worst part, Iggor. I don't even understand what the repercussions would be."
He looked down at his hands. "All I know is I was put on this path for a reason. The burden of change was never for one generation. We just… push for as long as we can, and hope someone after us can carry it further, my boy will carry it further."
"So it is to be a boy then? My congratulations, does she know the truth of your departure?"
"She… knows enough.
"Do you trust her with your son?"
"More than I trust myself."
"Have you decided on a name?"
"Zayn"
Iggor gave a satisfying nod, then he smiled and said,
"If you miss the next boarding call, will this whole conversation have been pointless?"
Avraham laughed and turned towards Iggor. He was a wide-shouldered man, clean-shaven; years of hard living had left him with an aged, gaunt face, and growing up on a planet with twice the standard gravity had made him shorter but well built. Avraham caught his friend in a bear hug; taller, he lifted him off his feet.
"Please take care of yourself, and… my family for me, Iggor."
"I'll protect them with my life, my friend."
There was nothing more to be said. Avraham exited one of the port's storage rooms and made his way to one of the landing bays where a military empire freighter waited to ferry him away. Out of his family's lives, leaving the planet, then the system itself.
Two days after Avraham's departure, on the first Day of the 976th year of The Living Flame, Zayn cried out for the first time. His mother's green eyes were soft and steady, set in a tired face matted by sweat and loose brown strands of hair. As Sarah held him, still trembling from the exhaustion of her labour, she whispered the words of welcome into his tiny ear, as her own father had once done for her sealing his fate as an outcast of the Empire.
Part Two: The Miracle Child
Rain was strapped to a table; she screamed with all her might and pushed. She had lived a harsh life and thought she knew pain; she had known nothing. Now she was sure she would die giving birth to this damned kid.
The mining worlds of the Outer Systems were brutal. Natural conception was foreign; there were no families, only mining sovereigns, the Empire, and the people they owned. Rain had lived her whole life under caustic rainstorms or ashfalls, from the constant explosions in the mines and of the volcanic surface of the planet, so her name hadn't earned her any favours among the locals.
Most women sold their eggs; the unlucky ones were robbed of them, and with no empathy or support systems in place, who would even be stupid enough to risk a natural birth in the slave pen of the mining worlds? She and her partner had been though; they had carved their own little slice of heaven in this desolate corner of the universe and had deluded themselves into a semblance of happiness. Having a natural child, as the nobles did in the movies they smuggled in to the factories sometimes, was their own little rebellion against the lot the universe had given them.
He had died a week ago. A mining accident, the slave who brought his final day's rations to her had said; he was dead and already forgotten by the universe. Supposedly, it had been a quick death.
"Lucky," Rain thought.
She didn't know how long she had suffered. The last push was so harrowing that she slipped into what felt like death's embrace.
When she awoke, she was in a different room, lying on something unbelievably soft, a real bed! Like in the movies. Pain returned quickly. She panicked and tried getting up.
"You need not strain yourself, Rain; your body needs more rest. Do not worry, you are safe here."
The voice's sound immediately calmed Rain, which was odd, since she should have been alarmed. "M… my child?" she asked.
"I'll bring him to you now, a perfectly healthy baby boy… Congratulations," the owner of the soothing voice said, and she heard him moving towards her. Then she saw him, and her heart immediately fell. The fear she should have experienced being alone with a stranger suddenly ignited; no, it would be safe to say she wouldn't have felt this kind of fear with just any stranger.
Cradling her son, he stepped into view: a crimson longcoat reinforced with black armour plates, a golden Living Flame insignia, curly hair neatly combed, his beard streaked with grey, and he was the tallest person she had seen. She had only ever seen these suits from afar, but there was no mistaking it; the person holding her baby was an Inquisitor of the Emperor.
It seemed the man holding her child noticed the sudden fear in her eyes. He bent down, adjusted some pillows behind her head, and propped her up into a half-sitting position, all with one hand, holding her child with the other. Then he placed her baby in her lap and made sure she supported him with her arms.
"You need not fear me or my station, Rain. I mean no harm to you or your child. I am known among the servants of the living flame as Avraham Darkflame."
Rain noticed for the first time that he had called her by her name. Why did an Inquisitor, one of the highest officers in the service of the Emperor, know her name? Despite Avraham's calming words, her fear had yet to subside.
"Forgive my impertinence, Inq… my l-lord Inquisitor, but what would the Inquisition want from me or my child? I… I… I have always been a loyal subject, your grace, please," tears formed at the edge of her eyes, "please spare me, my Lord."
What she saw on the Inquisitor's face was tears, which shook her. She was ready for cruel indifference, anger, even annoyance, but tears? That she had not expected.
"Life has been cruel to you, hasn't it? You did well, Rain. Your struggles have not gone unnoticed, your life is not meaningless, and you have been witnessed."
"You have been witnessed." Rain repeated in her mind.
Rain didn't know why those words brought her so much peace, so much happiness. Her petty, insignificant little life had been witnessed. She started crying in earnest then. She was so very tired; she gently pressed her baby boy against her.
"You and your child have been chosen. The Merciful embraces you both with His blessing, so you must rejoice, for this day you will be reborn as well. That is… only if you wish it".
Rain just nodded, still hugging her child.
The Inquisitor moved forward. He used one hand to raise the arms she was holding her child with until her baby's face was close enough that she could feel the small breaths her child was taking on her cheek. Their right ears were near enough that when the Inquisitor whispered, it was like he was whispering into both their ears at once.
Avraham whispered the song of welcome into the ears of the child and his mother, welcoming them both into the embrace of the Merciful, offering solace and hope for justice in a universe seemingly devoid of it, like his wife would have done for his son Zain.
"Welcome, my sister. You and your child would do me great honor to know me by my true name, Ibrahim."
Rain was still reeling from her welcome; she couldn't explain it, but she no longer feared what the future brought. She was content. If she weren't so overwhelmed with the joy of her welcome, she would have wondered what she was being welcomed to. She might have heard her son start crying. She might even have given more thought to the alarms that had begun ringing in a part of her mind at the mention of the name "Ibrahim."
Because meeting an Inquisitor would have paled to the absolute terror of meeting the infamous Ibrahim the Plague.
Part Three: The Lunar Princess
It was the last Day of the Nine Hundred and Seventy Sixth year of The Living Flame.
A congregation of beautiful young men and women gathered inside the Temple of the Living Flame, all in simple red tunics adorned with the living flame insignia of the Empire.
Fifty men stood on one side, facing fifty women on the other. In unison, they slit their throats, and soon blood flowed like water into small, narrow channels cut into the floor, eventually reaching the altar at the end of the hall, where a priest, whose face was hidden under bright red hooded robes, stood praying.
"We offer lives, we offer blood, we offer gratitude to the great Emperor."
"We offer souls, we offer kindling, we offer servitude to the Living Flame."
"Our great Lord Whiterock has sired another child; the lady is in labor, we ask for another great offspring blessed and bathed with the power of the Living Flame to be born to lead the next generation of the noble Whiterock family."
Watching this ritual was Avraham, from a balcony that opened into the grand hall from the second floor of the temple; the attached room was the Inquisitorial office, and, in truly drab fashion, their torture chamber.
"Avraham, you look positively enthralled. Amazing what people will spill their throats for, isn't it? Why, I've heard this batch even had distant princelings or two among them, maybe more."
Avraham looked up. The owner of the voice was a short, plump little man, wearing a uniform that mirrored his own, though it did not look nearly as flattering on him as it did on Avraham. This was Inquisitor Razin the Nailpeeler.
"Well, the venerable Lord Whiterock is old and desperate at this point; if he doesn't sire an heir, the power will shift to the other branches of the Whiterock family. The old bastard is pushing 150; he should just roll over at this point."
Avraham looked at Razin coldly and asked, "What of the prisoner?"
"Ah, ever the conversationalist aren't you? Well, his name was Iggor, no last name. Found him on the planet New Horizon, in the system ARASAKA86, weren't you there as well at the beginning of this year?"
Avraham could have ended it.
He could have stopped an hour ago, when they first brought the prisoner in.
He could have stopped it fifteen minutes ago, before the man died.
He could have stopped it a year ago, before he ever left on this path.
But in the end, it didn't matter. Avraham played the Inquisitor to perfection, just as Iggor had played the prisoner. He simply said,
"I was"
"Hmmm… surprised that you missed this guy."
"If the prisoner had anything worth revealing, then that would indeed have been a major lapse." Avraham's voice held a quiet, scathing undertone.
"Well, I didn't get anything on the big bad Ibrahim we were chasing, or his cell of rats. But interestingly, after I peeled off this guy's toes, his nails, and half his teeth, the guy finally cracked, started praying, and I tell you it wasn't to no emperor or flame. Which means we were close, really close, he may even have been in the upper ranks in the little gang of rats." Razin looked at Avraham with glee.
"That certainly is Interesting. Send more teams out and increase monitoring of Arasaka86. Increase the security checks on any vessels going in and out of the system's Warp Gate as well. Let's see…."
Avraham was interrupted by an emergency alert on his HPC (Hollographic Personal Computer). He touched a button inlaid on his uniform's wrist and fetched the earpiece out of his pocket. He immediately left Razin, who had an intrigued look on his face, behind on the balcony.
He opened the emergency communication channel; it was a call from Lady Whiterock, who was supposed to be in labour. Avraham cast one last look at the limp figure of his friend Iggor, spread out in the next room through the observation glass.
He quietly thanked him, "We'll meet in the next life, brother. Your test has ended and you were splendid."
The lady seemed agitated and told Avraham to make all haste to the medical wing at Whiterock Castle. Avraham did as he was bidden; after all, this event was the culmination of the plan he had set in motion a year ago, the dream he had 5 years ago, and the loyalty he had feigned to the empire for over 20 years.
Avraham reached the medical centre to find it empty; the last contingent of guards he had seen was outside the entrance to this wing of the castle. He walked with an air of grace and fearlessness expected of Inquisitors, although he had none of the supernatural powers that came with the role.
He was invisible to the Living Flame; it refused to touch him or grant him its boons. And that was what he had ensured would happen to the heir apparent as well, when he had been here last.
As he entered Lady Whiterock's chambers, he found her sitting alone, cradling a newborn child. She beckoned him closer. As he approached, he observed that the baby, unassuming as she looked, having been born only an hour or two ago, closely resembled her beautiful mother. Both had the same silver hair and the same gentle, round eyes with shimmering silver irises. Lady Whiterock paused, fishing for a reaction from Avraham. When she didn't get one, she simply continued.
"She is just like you, Avraham; doesn't have a trace of the emperor's favor. I am tired of losing children. If a child of mine can only live free if they are devoid of the the living flame… Then so be IT!"
Her voice had started rising, filling the room. She took a moment to compose herself.
"The Lord Whiterock won't stop here; he must have a child that is the inheritor of our embers of the living flame."
The Lady Whiterock sighed, then continued, " Until such a time comes, my daughter is still his heir; he will hide her disability for now, but I would not put stock in my husband spending a lot of resources trying to protect her; he may even be inclined to ensure any assassination attempt is successful. I have called upon you here today to ensure that my daughter not only lives but thrives. You will ensure her protection, her education and a life beyond the shackles that were imposed on me and with this task, my Lord Inquisitor, you will repay your debt to me for vouching for a flameless peasant to be allowed into the ranks of the Inquisitors."
Avraham, let his stoic facade slip just a little for theatrics. Apparently, that hint of alarm was enough to satisfy the Lady Whiterock as she returned her attention to the child in her lap.
Avraham was silent for a moment, "Your will shall be done, this I swear to you on my life."
"I hope that will be enough. I will help as long as I can, but… you most likely will have to rely on your own resources." Lady Whiterock said solemnly.
"Have you decided on a name?"
"Luna, for the lost moon that elevated house Lunaris."
She looked worn, yet she had lost none of her noble poise; her eyes were heavy with dark circles, yet her gaze was razor sharp. She was wearing a silver gown and had wrapped her daughter in a similarly colored blanket, complementing their hair and eyes.
"I have used my position and all of the influence my family of Lunaris spared me. The Lord Whiterock has been dissuaded from killing the child outright."
Avraham had already sung the welcome to the child once before in her mother's womb; he dared not do anything more now, but that was no issue, for he would have plenty of opportunities to counter the influence of the flame in his new position.
Zayn, Rain's kid Ash, and Luna, Avraham had watched these three, in a dream, being born 5 years ago, then he had seen them tied in chains made of pure light; and connected to them through similar chains, he saw countless others, millions then billions, all shackled, some by chains made of light and some by chains made of blood. His dreams had been haunted by the three for nearly four years.
For most people, fate determined very few parts of their lives, aside from their deaths. These three were not so lucky, and fate, it seemed, had marked them for something greater and something terrible.
All he wished for tonight, though, was to fall into a dreamless slumber.