High Inquisitor Gustav Sargerrei stood atop his balcony and looked across his great, unending city. Any onlooker with the acuity to see him on his perch high atop the hill might’ve considered him part of the building- a decoration to compliment the old granite castle. Just as the men immortalized on paned glass atop the wall behind him, he stood with a straight back- rigid with the pride of looking out across his many achievements. Down below, the midday gusts of wind carried the shed pink-and-purple petals of the many apfentrees planted along the busy streets- all the way up to the tallest spires of His Castle atop Jurat Hill, where the petals rode the streams of air past his wavy, silver hair. His face- the face he had always taken care not to scar or otherwise harm, expressed a profound worry in the form of a low brow and a strained frown. The morning’s news had not been welcomed, but in his forty years of service, he would be lying if he were to claim he was not dreadfully accustomed to expecting the unexpected.

“High Inquisitor Sargerrei.” A voice spoke from behind. The honorable Inquisitor turned over his shoulder to nod his approval for the man to step from Gustav’s study- through the tall, opened, steel doors and join him out on his balcony.

“Father.” Sargerrei muttered and returned to looking down upon his bustling city of tall brick buildings and lively streets. Father never hesitated in approaching him- not like the rest of the Purged. As one of the first to join his new Order- the Church of the Purified Cursed, he knew the High Inquisitor like none other and navigated his moods with a careful step, when necessary, but never held his tongue when he needed to speak. His white-and-golden robes swirled in the winds, yet his hood never rose above his eyes to reveal anything but his pristine, bared chin.

It was far too easy for the General to forget that his associate was only forty years old, as he had the wisdom of a man three times his age- especially in regards to the Church that he had been ordered to lead. Sargerrei kept his eyes locked on a distant carriage and spoke: “I take it you have not come bearing good news.” Father remained unnervingly still as he spoke in turn: “No.”

After a moment’s silence, in which Sargerrei calmed down enough to hear the Purged’s next words, Father continued: “It has claimed three more. The total for this month has been-”

“Twenty-two...” Sargerrei spoke drearily.

Father nodded and informed: “The southern supply-line has been disrupted. Petrus reports that Pilta has lost its Recruiter and that we are to expect no magi to come from sector six until further notice.” He could hear Sargerrei’s gauntleted hands curl up in irked fists, yet the man never broke from his usual, displeased frown as he spoke:

“Thankfully, Ingvard’s men are already headed for Pilta. Have them assist-”

“Already done, High Inquisitor. The First Legion will aid Titus in reestablishing the supply-line.” The factum that Father remained meant he had something more to report, but Gustav Sargerrei took a moment to let the message sink in before nodding for his associate to continue.

As apathetically as ever, Father continued to report: “It has grown more erratic over the last month. Our numbers are stable for now, but if it continues producing at this rate, I fear the demand will topple the supply.” Sargerrei turned over his shoulder to glare a strict stare at his unmoving, white-and-gold-robed Purged.

“I know the numbers, Father. Sending the First to the south will hopefully help establish a more permanent foothold in those damnable Blights, but until then, there is nothing I can do. This issue lies in your hands.” Father nodded his understanding, but as expected, he neither seemed nor truly felt surprised with the conclusion.

“Naturally, High Inquisitor. I take it we do not need to inform the Emperor?” Sargerrei broke from his strict frown to scoff. “The ‘Emperor’ will stay where he is- inside his golden palace, regardless of what you tell him. This is not an issue of civil matters and therefore, his involvement is neither necessary nor likely.”

“Yes, High Inquisitor.” Father knew when he had overstayed his welcome- he could always tell by the pauses in between them. For once, however, he was wrong to turn and make his departure, as Gustav raised his voice to request, as much as the High Inquisitor ever requested: “I wish to see it.”

Father came to a slow halt. Looking over his shoulder, he paused to look at his frowning colleague and remind him: “That would be ill-advised. As powerful as your ma-” A widening of Gustav’s eyes served to refresh the Purged’s memory and promptly made him agree to the High Inquisitor’s demands.

“As you wish, High Inquisitor.”

As much as it nauseated Gustav to admit it, he enjoyed the company of his well-chosen Purged. Slaving over his young body as it suffered the numerous torments needed to pay for his Sins had been well worth it, when he mired in his creations. The Tower- once an eyesore of magical research and immorality now stood tall to proclaim a new purpose. Covered in its monstrously large uniform of white and gold silk, not a hint of the magi’s place of perversion could be seen from the outside. Instead, the dancing cover promised an Order of Faith and dedication- loyalty, not only to the Inquisition, but to mankind... as opposed to those greedy, lying fools of old.

Their adamant guardsman stepped from atop his perch on the black carriage and descended down unto the Plaza, where he opened the door and stepped back- raising his pike to its height to allow Father to step out and into the sun once more. At noon, the tall, golden fountain’s droplets showered the cobbled courtyard in its prismatic glow- free from the shadows of the monstrously large, golden palace and the Tower. Sargerrei’s eyes were naturally drawn to the golden stairs leading up to where he had once established the Reigning Trinity; The Church, The Inquisition and the Emperor now stood unified atop the ashes of the Arch Magus and the rest of his Demonic ilk.

As his heavy, black-iron boots hit the cobbled stones, he took a whiff of the air and felt the memories return. He could almost smell their ashes on the winds- the Arch Magus’ and the hundreds- thousands of magi that followed after him. Father waited patiently as Gustav finished miring in the glory of his past deeds and waited for him to begin walking, before following after him with his usual, cautious steps- a good pace or so behind his back, as was the proper procedure whenever the two were in public. The High Inquisitor paid him no heed- how could he, when he so rarely got to visit this place? His feet hit the familiar, golden steps where he had dragged countless sinners up to the granite platform, where a cast-iron Pyre had been construed in his honor- sparkling its many rubies to immortalize the fires that had once burned in this new era.

Atop the stairs, the Purged awaited him- their hoods drawn low on either side of the door, kneeling at his approach. Without a second glance, the High Inquisitor and Father stepped into its dark depths- through the tall, silk-clad door to stand in the impossible structure.

The Ancients had inscribed the pitch-black, immortal stone with their mysterious, magical runes and cursed the building to live in a constant state of change. Looking up, it seemed to never end and from its distant peak, a white glow exuded to illuminate every nook and cranny of the impossible structure. From the outside, one might be fooled into believing that the endless space of the ancient construct was limited by its physical boundaries, but as everyone who had ever stepped inside to see the alien architecture knew, this was far from the case. From the cylindrical middle partition- up along the shifting stairs, orderly corridors went on for an indiscernible distance, some of which still burned from the Night of Rebirth.

The Purged had torn every scrap of forbidden magic from the interior and had it instead with more... human... decorations. Tall emblems and banners of the Purging Flame hung on purple silk along the walls and in between the fine interior, numerous Purged wandered the shifting stairs with their hoods drawn low over their eyes. Gustav passed by them, but not a one tremored, nor shirked away. Why would they? They had rid themselves of their Sin and earned their place in the service of Mankind and more importantly... of the black-armored man striding along the wall to make his descent into the dark depths of the subterranean levels of the Tower.

A misplaced, abrupt end to the stair in the form of a solid, smooth surface of the same, black material that made up the rest of the tower, barred their way. Father wordlessly stepped up to the wall and lay a flat palm against it to mutter a few, silent words. Sargerrei had always hated this part, as it reminded him of the horrid Truth to the world- a Truth he had only learned as he first saw it on his first visit to the abyss below the Ungodly magi’s Tower. The wall ahead of them disappeared, allowing them passage further down the smooth steps until they reached the ready-room- a chamber as dark, yet illuminated as ever other part of the mysterious structure. There, he saw the next Shift in various stages of dressing themselves in their protective suits.

He watched the Purged strip naked to bare his scarred, thin body. Sargerrei knew every last one of the scars- or rather, the devices that had gifted them to him. He could read him as he could any canvas- the whip, the thumb-screws, the barbed wire, the bronze kettle, yet the man still lived. Having been parted with his testicles and penis, his groin had been turned masterfully smooth, save for the urethra that had its exit at the bottom of his perineum. He clad himself in robes more befitting the duties ahead of him- construed from magic-rich magus leather and coated with plates of repellant obsidian. Next, he sat down on his knees and muttered a prayer as he donned his new hood and sealed the leather around his neck with a tightly drawn strap. This new hood was as unsightly as they were- sporting a long, iron beak, stuffed full with alchemical and medical filtering apparatuses- none of which Father could claim to have faith in. Lastly: they bound the heavy metal plates around their foreheads- seemingly in an attempt to shield their eyes.

As the six men finished clothing themselves in their magus leathers, they turned to face one-another in silence. Gustav had always wondered, but never asked how they knew their way to the door, as none of the hoods had any apertures for their eyes. Next, the silent men all walked towards the black, smooth wall and with another whisper, bared the interior.

Father made certain to keep Gustav safely away from the door and both knew to hold their breath as the purple gases spewed forth from the opening, before dissipating to the air. The chains securing their robes in place clinked together as they wordlessly disappeared inside. Gustav moved to peer around the corner, only for Father’s insistent hand to hold him back.

“No. Not yet.” The High Inquisitor took orders from noone, but he would gladly take advice from Father. He nodded his understanding and a moment later: six, different shapes came jogging out from the room. Father loosened his grip- freeing Gustav from his hold.

The High Inquisitor had defeated magi- weak and strong, but so very rarely had he ever felt his heart thump so loudly- so intensely as when he looked at it. His heavy armor boots were louder and heavier than ever as he stepped between the six Purged struggling on the floor to peer inside the chamber. Father informed: “I have had to reduce their exposure-window to twenty minutes per day. As it grows stronger, it requires more and more magic... but that is not the largest issue.” Sargerrei peered around the door-frame to look inside the black chamber, but found his eyes immediately drawn to the pitch-black anomaly in the middle of the room.

The ancient runes keeping the anomaly in its tranquil state glowed a bright white from the magi powering it. They stood at their appointed spots- spots along the rune meant to draw out their magic, while shielding them from some of the unfortunate effects of the purple, noxious gases spewing forth from the void in between them.

Its darkness was all-encompassing- void of all light and color. Its darkness was so profound that it was impossible for any- even the most Cursed of the Purged- to the see its shape or movements. “To think that old fool hid this from us...” Gustav thought- pondering if he would have acted differently if he had known. A thoroughly muffled voice muttered something from behind the High Inquisitor’s back. He turned away from the anomaly to look at the heaving messes in turn, but whereas most were in the process of discarding their protective suits, one man remained on the floor- muttering on his fours.

“I saw them, Father... I saw them. I saw them!” The man got up from the floor and grabbed Father by his shoulders. Father stoically weathered the touch- briefly baring what looked to Gustav like a disappointed frown. The muffled voice continued to scream: “T-they looked back at me, Father! They know we are looking- they know what we are doing! F-Father!” He screamed with unmatched panic. The High Inquisitor reached for the blade at his hip, only for Father to shake his head and speak: “Twenty-three...” He looked up to order his naked men: “Dispose of him. I declare him Touched by the Rift.”

Gustav released his grip on his blade and took a step away from the doorway- causing it to manifest the black barrier to shield them from the anomaly’s unfortunate effects as the five, still sane men grabbed the panicked Purged by his arms, legs and shoulders and led him back up to the world above, where his ashes would soon flutter across the streets he had died to protect.