Orenda floated in a realm of light. She was back inside the sacred flame. She saw everything in the vast nothing, saw into an eternity in the blinding light, and knew that she was only one small part of the great expanse of everything, that the universe was vast and unknowable, that it was mostly void, mostly nothing, with small specks of life.

Orenda had been here before, when she had floated, with the staff, in the sacred flame. Time meant nothing here, because time, like everything else, was nothing, was an illusion. She was nothing, floating in the nothing that contained everything.

You have done well. A voice said in the nothing.

Thank you, master. The staff said.

The girl is strong. The voice said.

Yes, master. The staff said, I have waited for eons, to find one strong enough to contain the power of a god. This girl is strong enough to house that power, to be the vessel for a god among mortals.

Orenda. The voice said, and though Orenda had never heard it before, she recognized it instantly.

“Thesis,” Orenda said, “Does time stall here?”

No, my child.

“Where am I?” Orenda asked.

You are within the soul of a god. You are part of something greater than yourself, but then… you already knew that.

“I have to go back,” Orenda said, “This is all very interesting, and I fully intend to deal with it later, but I don’t have time for this. I have to go back. I have to defeat the Emerald Knight. People are counting on me.”

You’re so practical. The god said. My servant has chosen well. Will you take this gift, then? Will you become the vessel through which the will of a god may flow?

“I already made this decision,” Orenda said, because she had. Orenda did not have the luxury of time. She understood that Klin was not strong, that he was weak, that he was easily manipulated, that the things he had said were likely true. But Orenda was no sniveling child held captive by social convention. Orenda was not a princess, nor a student, nor a street urchin. Orenda was a Knight of Order, and she knew that sometimes, good people had to do horrible things, to build a world that was worthy of the good people in it. She knew that her parents, that Xaxac and even the Urillians, would not have died in vain if she could dethrone the empress. Orenda did not want this power for herself, or for revenge. Orenda was not fighting for the dead that she did not know. Orenda was fighting for Gareth, for Bella, for Falsie, Draco, Impy, Bubbider, Ali, their unborn child, the Brigaddons, and every human in bondage, for Toli, Steve, Adam, Sarya and her new parents, Barbra Allen, and every person who was living in the hellscape the Urillians had created.

Orenda was already a vessel. Orenda was already a light in the darkness, rather than a person. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, and if that was where she was going, she was going to leave behind a better world on the mortal plane.

“Give me everything!” Orenda demanded of the god, “Give me everything and send me back!”

Orenda did not see that her eyes were red when she opened them.

She did not see that the wounds she had sustained were gone without even leaving a trace of a scar. She felt her mortal body, stronger and more powerful than it had ever been, but she no longer lived inside it- she lived in the sacred flame, and saw with the eyes of a god.

The sword had not connected with her neck. It hovered in the air less than an inch from her flesh, as if it had hit some kind of barrier.

Thesis has chosen this vessel, master. The sword said. I will allow no harm to come to our vessel.

“Shit,” the Emerald Knight said, and drew back to strike again, a forward strike this time, and Orenda watched with detachment as he buried the sword through her sterilite armor as if it was nothing more than rabbit fur. Orenda knew without looking that the stone was lodged in the place her heart used to be. She knew he had tried to carve it out, as he had apparently done to the Sacred Guardian of the Sacred mountain temple. The stone didn’t feel as if it were part of the bone- it felt as if it was in the place where her heart once was.

But once again, the sword stopped before it actually hit her flesh, and once again it spoke.

I will allow no harm to come to our vessel, master.

The Emerald Knight let out a shriek of frustration and jerked the sword upward, and Orenda watched it cut through all three layers of her clothes to expose her collarbone. The sterilite armor began to unravel, the bodice of her workdress was destroyed, and her traveling cloak would have fallen to the floor had she not had her arms through the holes in the sides.

Then, something happened.

As soon as the sterilite armor fell away from the stone- flames lept from it. They flowed over her body and solidified, covering her completely. Orenda could not see the living magma that surrounded her, could not see the sacred armor of the Crimson Mage- but she felt it. She felt the power of a god that flowed through and over her, protecting her.

The Emerald Knight drew back to strike again.

And she couldn’t have the Emerald Knight carving out her heart.

So she drew back her hand, and fought like a Firefist.

She punched him right in the glowing stone in his chest, and she had called up the fire so easily that she didn’t even register she had done it. The Emerald Knight flew back with the force of it, out the doorway, and collided with the far wall of the hallway. The armor he wore had been a forest, and it burned away as Klin knelt, panting, on the floor, clutching his sword.

“I need to take this armor off before I see the queen,” Orenda said.

“Of course,” her vocal chords vibrated, her tongue moved, along with the muscles in her cheek that no longer showed any sign that they had been severed, and the bones in her jaw that had apparently never been broken.

The armor burned away, and Orenda picked up her staff.

Everything looked so different it was disorienting. She did not feel like herself, and she rather liked it. She had lost the very concept of fear, and the Emerald Knight sat on his knees staring up at her.

“Alright,” Klin said as Orenda walked toward him, through the magical barrier and into the hallway to tower over him. He sat up as tall as he could on his knees, and held the sword with both hands, offering it to her. “You might actually be able to… you may be strong enough to… I want you to… I… I… I’m a monster… I killed… I remember… I remember all of it. Please!” He looked up at her with tears in his big, blue eyes and begged, “Please take this! Take this and carve out my heart!”

Orenda took the sword by the hilt and Klin used both hands to pull down his armor, to expose the stone in his flesh.

“I can’t… I’ve… I’ve tried and it… the armor springs up and… it stops me. It won’t let me do it. And… you’re the only one who could… you’re holding that sword. Please! Please just… just kill me! End it! I’m begging you! I think you can do it!”

Don’t be so dramatic, master. The sword in Orenda’s hand said. I could never hurt you. I love you.

“Please!” Klin begged her, “Please I’m… I tried… I tried to warn you! I can’t… I can’t keep going, Orenda! It’s been three centuries! I don’t… I don’t know if she ever loved me and… they don’t even look… they don’t even look like me anymore! Please! You have to… you have to carve out the stone! That’s… that’s how I killed them! Just end it! Please!”

“That’s so sad,” Anilla said.

“Stay down, stay down, stay down,” Klin chanted, and Orenda realized he was speaking to the stone in his chest. She had never seen anything more pathetic.

“Klin!”

Orenda jerked her head to see the oldest living man she had ever laid eyes upon. He was more elderly and frail than even Impy, and he was sprinting in a way that looked painful and uncomfortable. His eyes were the dark brown of healthy dirt, but they were clouded over and he wore a pair of silver rimmed spectacles. His hair was coarse, sparse, and silver, but pulled into a bun at the top of his head as if he still believed he had any place in battle. He drew a sword as he ran, but Orenda saw the strain it put on him, the strain he was trying to hide.

“Get the hell away from him!” The man demanded, and Orenda thought his uniform was more ceremonial than practical.

“Ruvean, move!” Klin demanded.

“Get up!” The old man told Klin with the voice of a father protecting his child.

“Move!” Klin demanded.

“Sir Klin,” the man said with great practicality, “There are terrorists and giant rabbits roaming the castle! We failed our mission! If you don’t get up, your wife is going to die today!”

Klin began to cry, and the old man turned his back on the avatar of a god. He knelt and shook Klin by the shoulders.

“Klin, my boy, get up! Get up right now! We are under attack! The castle is under siege! There are pirates at the coast, there’s an entire continent on fire! Get up!”

“I can’t do it anymore!” Klin wrapped his arms around the man and sobbed into his shoulders.

“You’re the Chosen One!” the man said, “Get on your feet! How much have you had to drink today?”

“I can’t, Ruvean, I can’t,” Klin said.

“I thought you said your parents were dead,” Orenda said, and the old man pulled himself painfully to his feet.

“My god,” he said, “my god, Klin, she has the fire stone!”

“I know,” Klin sobbed into his hands.

“She has your sword!”

Klin had moved beyond words now, just crying into his hands.

“Klin, get up!” The man begged.

“Don’t hurt him,” Klin begged Orenda, “He’s a good man he… it’s all my fault! I’m the monster! I did everything! He didn’t… I…”

“Klin,” Orenda said with annoyance, “Get up. Stop hiding behind the elderly.”

“I won’t let you hurt this boy,” Ruvean pointed his sword at the avatar of a god as if it would do anything, “I won’t let anyone else hurt him.”

“Ruvean move!” Klin demanded.

“I will,” Ruvean said, “Once you get up!” He studied Orenda and said, “Where did you get that staff?”

“I pulled it from the sacred flame at the sacred mountain temple,” Orenda answered, intrigued by the courage of this old man who would stand against a god.

“I imagine that must have been quite difficult,” Ruvean said, “Klin always had a difficult time with that sword.”

“Move.” Orenda demanded simply, “Move now, or I set you ablaze!”

“I’m sure I’ll burn quite easily,” the man said, “My skin is always so dry in the winter, and the long voyage certainly didn’t do it no favors.”

Orenda raised her hand and put it to the man’s chest. “Get out of my way!”

“Judging by the state of this hall,” Ruvean said, “One more corpse won’t hurt the place at all.”

“Ruvean!” Klin jumped to his feet and shoved him out of the way, “Run!”

Ruvean stumbled with the force of Klin’s actions, but steadied himself on the wall.

“I won’t leave you, boy,” he said.

“Rendy, this is just too sad!” Anilla tugged at traveling cloak, “Let’s go see the queen! You got what you came here for!”

The halfling let the Emerald Knight into the chamber, master. She betrayed you just as I said she would. And she defends him still. The staff said.

My god, The sword said Look at her soul.

Klin threw both hands over his mouth and exclaimed, “Holy shit, you’re right.”

I have never lied to you master.

“Fuck off with that shit, you stopped fucking clock,” Klin wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“He talks to his sword,” Ruvean told the room, as if he thought it needed explaining.

“You!” Orenda rounded on Anilla, “You let the Emerald Knight in to kill me!”

Her eyes were red when she knelt, grabbed Anilla by the collar of her clothes, and lifted her into the air.

“Who the hell were you scrying, the night Bella shifted?”

“I was calling home! To check in!” Anilla explained frantically, “Rendy, what’s wrong?”

“Why did you tell them all our secrets? Why did you tell them about the Knights of Order!?”

“Because the Urillians were there! They were afraid!” Anilla pleaded, “Everywhere else they went something terrible happened! We don’t have any way to defend ourselves! If something bad was going to happen people needed to leave!”

“I don’t believe you!” Orenda snarled.

The halfling has an evil soul. The sword said.

“I should kill you now!” Orenda hissed, “Before you can do any more damage!”

“I’m sorry, Rendy!” Anilla begged, and began to scream as Orenda’s hand began to heat, “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry!”

“Stop it!” Klin shouted, “Stop it with the bullshit! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” he was screaming so loudly Orenda knew it would bring more guards, so she turned to face him.

“That’s how it starts!” he screamed, “‘Kill the other boys in your unit, they’ll betray you!’ ‘Don’t make friends, they’ll betray you!’ ‘These people are below you master, slay them all!’ ‘Don’t let them into your heart, they’re mortals and you’re not!’ ‘They’ll hurt you but I won’t! I love you, master!’ ‘Slay them, master!’ Stop it! Orenda, stop it! Please! Don’t hurt her! I don’t know who she is, but I know you can’t trust anything those things say, and if that’s all you hear for three fucking centuries suddenly bards are singing songs about how horrible you are, and three generations of assassins are trying to kill you and your wife, and parents tell little kids stories about you like you’re the fucking boogieman! I don’t,” he was crying again and Orenda wished he would stop, “I don’t know you but… you can’t… you can’t be this. No one is. Not at first. Please, please, for the love of god don’t listen to them and kill me!”

Orenda stared up at Anilla and realized what she was doing.

Anilla’s story made sense.

Klin’s story made sense.

She gently set Anilla on the floor and stared at the sword on her hand. She felt the weight of the staff on her back, and looked around at the charred corpses lining the destroyed hallway.

Then she turned and lunged for Klin with all her weight.