Kosian placed his archer in C4 and smiled triumphantly. With this move, he was able to completely pin down the enemy king. He looked up at the man sitting on the other side of the small lacquered table, flashing him a smile. Odo and he had been friends since the first day of university and he answered with a smile of his own, though a dry one at that. Short in stature and rather round around the waist, the man wore a pristine doublet made of green silk and purple embroidery which nicely contrasted Kosians own blue and yellow unbuttoned coat. Slapping his egg-like bald head and scratching the short bristles of his recently cut beard, Odo sighed admonishingly as his dark green eyes looked over the board.

“Another glorious loss for me…” he said in a resigned tone, using the fixing of his puffed shoulders to try and gleam another way to maybe weasel out of Kosians catch. Tapping the hot Mootian cigrass in his pipe, Kosian blew out a large ring and smiled at his friend. “Don’t say that, Odo! You still have two ways of getting yourself out of this.” Grinding his teeth, the short man resignedly placed his general in D5, taking Kosians knight. Which then allowed him to take Odo’s general with the archer. The man wasn’t bad at War, just blind-sided by obvious traps that at first looked like victories. Kosian had once tried to teach him to stay on his toes, but that had ended with a bottle of brandy and a lot of shouting. Like in business, the master of the Butcher’s guild in La Richelieu was a greedy and short-sighted man. Which strangely never hindered his business.

Blowing out another ring and putting his other knight on E8, Kosian turned to watch Pietra and Odo’s son Hugo playing house. It seemed like Hugo was once again getting scolded by Pietra for not making food for their children. Kosian smiled as he watched his daughter speak in an overly admonishing tone. It was sometimes frightening to see how much she took after her mother. Looking back to the board, he waited for Odo’s move.

“How are the nightmares?” he asked suddenly, moving his footman to F5. Kosian stayed silent for a moment, studying the lacquered playing board. The man was clearly on to something. Puffing out a long vapour of cigrass smoke, he answered. “Better, I suppose. Rarer, though still horrifying. Usually, it is always the same – I wake up in some dimly lit cave in excruciating pain, only to fall into darkness before waking up.” Odo nodded understandably and murmured a curse as Kosian took out the footman with a centaur. “Sounds unpleasant. Have you tried speaking to a Brother or… oh, right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” answered Kosian, watching as his friend took out a footman he was planning to turn into a tower. No matter how much he tried to forget or forgive, the wound made by the Faith on that day so many years ago just couldn’t be sown up. Sighing wearily, he always felt tired talking about such things, he tried to change the subject. “How have you been faring? La Hussion is closer to the border than Baye. Much closer.” Watching Kosian’s hand like a lion ready to leap, Odo sighed and sagged in his chair. “I’ve learnt to not sponsor any caravans or trading expeditions. Can you believe it?! Six caravans. Six! Each one was ambushed by deserters, the rebels or even the royal army the moment it crossed the river! The sea trade isn’t as bad, but I’ve heard new reports of those knife-eared sons of whores launching new raids from their little peninsula. Heh… it almost reminds me of the stories my father used to tell me about the Steel War,” he shivered at the mention of the thing. Kosian did too but tried not to show it. Still, it wasn’t far from the truth. The Steel war had started as a single disagreement between a lord from the Empire and the commander of the Steel legion he had hired. Somehow, it was able to cascade into a continent-spanning war which even prompted the decreeing of another Cleansing. By some accounts, over three million men, women and children had lost their lives, though most believed the butcher's bill was well over four. It seemed that the Black Veil was once again walking the lands, as men and women butchered each other on both sides. Filling his lungs with the sweetly sour taste of cigrass, Kosian blew out a large cloud and hit his pipe on the table, ash scattering before being grabbed by the wind. “So much blood spilt just to decide who gets to wear a gaudy golden hat…”

Odo chuckled as he finally made a cross sign with his fingers in the air – the sign of accepting defeat. “Not just that, my friend. Using our money to decide it.” Kosian looked at him wryly. The man put a bit too much import on money. Sure, any respectable merchant did. But not as much as Odo.

“Papaaa!”

The two of them immediately turned to the children. Hugo was slightly sobbing, while Pietra sat by her ornamented doll house. Though she had turned her back to him, Kosian knew that stance of hers. It meant she was pouting. Standing from his chair, Odo walked up to his son, wiping the tears from his face. “What’s wrong, my boy?”

The boy brushed the tears away with his sleeve and pointed at Pietre. “She-she keeps yelling at me! I-I don’t even understand what-what I did wrooong!” he said in between sobs, as streams of tears kept running down his cheeks. Kosian stood as well, placing his pipe back into his mouth. “Pietra? Is this true?” he asked, looking at his daughter.

Dressed in a simple grey dress with white embroidery at the hem and around her waist, Pietra turned to him, her emerald eyes watering and her light brown hair, which was tied in a long braid, in her hands. “I…” she started, but just let out a weak sob. Sighing, Kosian walked up to her, trying to make his face look empathetic. Gently cupping her hand in his, he looked at her. Perhaps he made his face too stern, as Pietra immediately gave him a look one would expect on a hurt rabbit – teary and wide-eyed, her lips quivering trying to hold in her sobs. Kosian shushed gently as he patted her head.

“I understand you want to act like your mother, Pietra, but she doesn’t just yell at me all the time for not making food and some such. A woman has to be the one to comfort her husband when he comes home after a stressful day, who guides him in the right direction and makes sure he returns to a place he could call home. Now, apologize to Hugo.”

Looking at him, Pietra nodded in agreement, her light blue eyes sparkling from her tears. Smiling at her, Kosian wiped away her tears and urged her to Hugo. Walking up to the boy, Pietre stood around awkwardly for a moment, before hugging him. “I’m sorry, Hugo. Amber fever got me today,” she said, tightening her embrace. Hugo stood for a moment, before hugging her back. Smiling, Kosian stood up. Hugo was tall for his age and that dark-tipped grey hair covered a good head. He would make a fine husband someday. If not for Pietra, then maybe for one of her cousins. Odo walked up to him, chuckling as he rested his hand on his stomach like some jolly Winter Eve almsman. “I see she has a smidge of her father in her as well,” he said, smiling as the two ran towards the kitchens, most likely planning on stealing some uncooked cake dough or freshly baked cookies. Kosian smiled for a reply. Maybe she did, but he couldn’t care less. She filled him with so much pride, so much… wait… what?

Looking closer, Kosian felt himself rub his eyes. Taking a closer look, he sighed and made a nervous chuckle. There was a part of those nightmares of his that he hadn’t told to anyone. Sometimes, when he dreamed of excruciating pain, he seemed to see a boy with long light brown hair tied in a tail, light blue eyes and a withered face, as if he had been eating from the streets his entire life. He never knew why, but he could immediately place a name on that sickly face. Pietre. The name of his long-deceased younger brother. And here he was, imagining him instead of his beautiful daughter. Taking a deep breath, Kosian smiled, as he watched Pietre and Hugo… no! PIETRA and Hugo run into the kitchens. He didn’t even feel as he came crashing to the ground. His head seemed to be stuffed with wool. He felt nauseous. His ears rang and he felt blood running down his nose. As he felt Odo shake him, and watched Jula and Odo’s wife Katrina run towards him, their large, long dresses of red and indigo swaying every which way, he couldn’t help but feel completely mortified. He saw Hugo and Pietre(a), running towards him, their eyes filled with worry. But that wasn’t what held his gaze. What did was the man standing behind them. Dressed in a fine yet plain white doublet with slashed shoulders, traditional tight britches, white hose and single-button shoes, he wore the distinct sleeveless, ankle-length fur coat of a merchant. And held his head in his hands. The head had straight-laced black hair and a well-cut yet lightly ruffled black beard, with white hairs showing here and there. His light blue eyes, though seemingly dead, pierced him, as they had so many times before. Geofroi Nocamius watched his son lie on the ground, streams of blood slowly seeping through the cracks of his fingers. Those eyes! By the Lord, the Strip and all that is holy those EYES! Kosian felt their gaze burn, searing into his soul, his very being! But that couldn’t be possible! His father had retired to an estate by the sea! He had visited him just this summer! How?! What was this?! Had something happened? Had someone…

‘So, you’ve finally remembered…’

Kosian found himself standing in a void. There was light, but it came from nowhere as if only existing to light the small area around him. Blackness surrounded him. He could see no horizon, no shadows of corners, nothing. Only blackness. The only thing with him in this featureless abyss was the water he was standing in. Every time he moved, whether it was a simple twitch or a step, the water rippled ever so slightly, small waves extending into infinity like an echo. He didn’t know why, but Kosian felt as if he was standing before a tribunal, guilty of a crime punishable by something worse than death. Looking at himself, he noticed that he wore a uniform, colourless linen tabard which reached his knees. His hands were cuffed with cast irons and his long dark hair dangled in front of his face. In truth, he felt like a prisoner taken to plead his case. It was unnerving. As he carefully looked around, seeing only the endless expanse in front of him, Kosian saw the water rippling back towards him, the sound of steps following the small waves. As the sound got closer and closer, Kosian felt a strange prickling feeling in his hands. Looking down, he felt his eyes widen as he saw every single pore on his hands slowly open up, blood flowing along the curving of his hand prints. Suddenly, the steps stopped, yet Kosian saw nothing, only the sight of dissipating ripples. Whoever had approached him stayed hidden in the black shadows of the surrounding abyss. Blood slowly trickled from his hands, staining the featureless water under him, Kosian tried to move towards the direction from which he heard the sound. Which way was it again? His front? No… his back, surely! But no. He heard it coming from his left side. No! The right! Fruitlessly, Kosian spun around, barely managing to not trip over his own feet or the long tabard, which had seemingly turned into some sort of long robe. Kosian felt something welling up in him. A strange sort of fear. An intense feeling of… something…

Suddenly, he stopped. Another set of steps started toward him. Immediately turning to the source of the sound, his right, he started running. His every step was followed by the distinct sound of a drop falling into a pool of still water. There were no waves. No splashes or sprays from his feet. Only small ripples continued into the blackness. Suddenly tripping over his long robe, Kosian fell face-first into the water and the black floor underneath. He felt the water, and yet it seemed as if it wasn’t even there. Like some sort of fog. Even the black floor, which was so uniformly smooth he felt like he should be falling, felt completely dry. Taking a deep breath, Kosian listened in. the steps continued to echo, getting closer and closer to him. Suddenly, he yelped, flopping to the ground. It felt as if he was struck in the back by a whip. With every step, Kosian felt another lashing scar on his body. He felt the blood run down his back, making the linen robe stick to his skin. It felt excruciating. The whip wasn’t just a simple whip used to spur on cattle. The strikes reminded Kosian of the only time he saw mother repenting – scarring her back with that long whip made of hundreds of small braids, each one ending in a small metal barb. He remembered her noticing him, horror and madness in her eyes. He remembered as she ran after him, screaming: “REPENT! REPENT!”. As the sound of the footsteps stopped, so did the lashing, allowing Kosian to stand up. If he had covered any sort of distance, he couldn’t see it. The abyss – still as suffocating, the water – as translucent as before. He cursed. What sort of hell had he been banished to? Was this what the Red looked like? Was he now just another red star in the endless expanse of the Band, appearing as an omen of death and destruction, of uncertainty and fear? Or had he been banished to the deep halls of the Ancestors for his sins? But, had he committed any sin? The Lord was all-knowing, merciful, and just.

“If he was all that, Pietre wouldn’t have spent the first nine years of his life being forced to debase himself for some holy wench!” Kosian said out loud to no one in particular. He felt someone staring at him. Two pairs of eyes gazed at him somewhere deep in the shadows of the blackness. He felt those gazes pierce his skin. It felt as if they were staring at a cow being readied for slaughter. As he tried to turn to where he thought one of the gazes came from, Kosian felt something pierce his head. The pain was excruciating – it was as if thousands of tiny needles, each razor-sharp, dug themselves into his brain in pulses. He again fell onto the floor, writhing in agony. As he did, Kosian barely noticed as the area around him was suddenly illuminated by a large sphere of pure white light, revealing the two figures, as the sound of a third echoed behind him. Yet he couldn’t have cared less at that moment. The pain was unbelievable. Even the flailing of his back seemed more akin to a simple paper cut compared to this. Kosian tried to scream, yet no words came. All he could do was twist helplessly on the floor, his cuffed hands tightly holding onto his head, trying to make sure it doesn’t burst. He begged for whoever walked those steps to walk faster. Every echoing step rattled his head, making the pulsing needles drive even deeper. Suddenly, they ceased. Breathing heavily, Kosian tried to stand but only fell back to the ground. He felt blood running out of his ears, eyes and nose. With a greater effort than he imagined, he finally kneeled in a comfortable position and looked up. The warm white light wasn’t blinding, just bright enough to illuminate the area around him, its ambient warmth strangely comforting. Him and the three beings which stood in front of him.

All three wore long draping robes of black, with barely noticeable embroidery of silver on the fringes. Though of human stature and height, they were far from human. The one standing just in front of Kosian was a man. At least, it had the stature of one, with broad shoulders and a lean body. In his hands, it held the head of a man eerily similar to his father in its long-fingered and pale-skinned hands. The head bled from everywhere – ears, nose, mouth, neck stump. Even the eyes cried streams of blood. Set upon the head's blood-tinged straight black hair was a golden circlet, made out of what looked like lines, squares and triangles which shone in a faint golden light. The circlet dug into the head's skull, though it didn’t pierce the skin. Rather, it seemed to sear it, as Kosian could see faint traces of smoke coming from where the circlet made contact with hair or skin. While the head continued to bleed into the formless water below, it didn’t mean that the body itself ended in a stump. Instead of a head, the neck of the being extended, taking the shape of a large pale and wrinkled finger which stood erect. It was decorated in at least a dozen rings, loose strands of dark, sinewy hair draping over them. Kosian only saw the inner part of the finger, seeing the large golden circlets around it tightly fitted onto the finger, making the pale skin bulge and turn purple and the creases widen as the disks or jewels of the rings peeked from behind it. Turning from the abomination, Kosian barely held himself from emptying his stomach as he saw the being to his right. It took the form of a woman, its pale burnt hands held together in a resting position. At first glance, it seemed like just a simple woman, with beautiful raven dark hair, deep blue crystalline eyes and a perfectly small nose. Her neck was adorned with necklaces of prayer beads and a Holy Diamond, made out of gold-painted wood beams, seemingly floated in the air behind her, making her look like a saint. She seemed heavenly – a saint sent from the Blue to save the sinners of the world. But as he looked at her, Kosian noticed something… wriggling on her face, blurring the beautiful visage. He noticed the scuttling of small legs, the sound of mandibles clacking, and the screech of a bug. He finally picked out the thousands of centipedes, some small, some as large as a forearm, crawling around a charred skeleton's head, their shell the colour of skin and hair. It was disorienting how one moment he could see the woman, the other – the uncountable number of those cursed insects. Her wavy black hair writhed as dozens of bugs crawled over each other, some even falling to the ground, screeching as they did so, while others climbed the black mantle trying to get back to their spot. Even the eyes seemed to only be two giant sections of carapace, the colour blue. Watching, Kosian noticed strange shimmers on the scuttling insects. He realized what they were in an instant. Every single centipede had an embossing of a saint on each section of its carapace. He could pick out St. Galahei the Drowned, St. Spiko the Burnt, and St. Octius the Blind. The saints repeated in rows of skin-coloured shells, somehow making the image of the woman. It made Kosians skin crawl. He didn’t even notice as the Holy Diamond behind the woman suddenly lit aflame, the golden paint seemingly bleeding off of the wood. As it did, it revealed a writhing mass of hands and legs, all interlocking to take the shape of the diamond. Eyes covered their skin, each one staring Kosian down, each one just barely different from the others. Kosian gulped. The being in the middle had made him uncomfortable when he first saw it. This one had him downright horrified. And yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman. It was as if his gaze was glued to her, forcing him to see her and only her. Grunting, he finally forced himself to look at the third being that had approached him. Unlike the other two, the being wore a large white apron over the black robe, though its fringes were blackened by what looked like soot and splashes of something were all over the apron. A snapped hangman’s noose hung from its neck, draping over its chest. The ropes seemed as if they had snapped under immense stress. It had the face of an aged, yet still beautiful woman. A gently rounded chin, small lips curved into a gentle smile and a nose just a little too large, all coloured in that pale skin. Its eyes were covered by a length of dirty cloth, though streams of dirtied blood, the crimson mixing with what seemed like muddy water, ran down her slightly hollow as it sunk into the ropes of the noose. Her hair was tied into a large bun, though its shape seemed odd to Kosian. He immediately saw why, as the hair started to writhe, long, pale sinewy hands sprouting from the bun. Every single one held a tiny tool – a garden hoe, a spatula, a scythe, a broom and any other tool one would find in a tidy household. Kosian felt a strange warmth watching her. It reminded him of something.

“We are gathered here today to once again judge the Anomaly. May this once again lead to a beneficial partnership!” suddenly said the monster in the middle. Kosian turned to it. The being had spoken with two voices at the same time, both speaking in perfect unison. The decapitated head's mouth was open, blood still spilling from its mouth. But Kosian noticed something else. The lowest crease of the finger, squeezed between two tight golden circlets had parted, revealing a large mouth lined with razor-sharp teeth and a long, sinewy tongue which hungrily wetted its lips. Suddenly, the two voices spoke again, the sound echoing through the black abyss. “Nam-me digir-Di geù gixsa šùd!” the severed head spoke in a commanding, regal tone, along with the mouth from the crease in its guttural, yet strangely flaky and old voice. Both complimented each other in a way that almost seemed like they were one voice split apart. As… they spoke, Kosian watched as a shadow of something large suddenly loomed over them. The strange ambient light suddenly shone brighter, revealing a statue of what he could’ve only described as a pagan god. Its body was covered by four large wings, each feather made to look uniform with the others, with only two arms peeking out of the long feathered robe. In one the statue held a sword by the blade just under the hilt, the blade pointing downwards at such an angle that it seemed to be pointed at Kosian. In the other, it held a pair of scales. Three heads sprouted from its shoulders – a man’s on the right, a child’s on the left and a woman’s in the middle. Each of the faces was blindfolded, yet their faces seemed grim set. A large halo made in the shape of the sun hung behind the heads, the long rays protruding far. While Kosian studied the strange statue, the three beings in front of him spoke in perfect unison.

“Child of the Thousand Kings, Malak ukn Kta! Ye stand trial before the judges of Fate! Before the Judge!” it pointed to itself, “Jury!” it pointed to the centipede woman, “And Executioner! Stand now and speak thy crime so that we may give appropriate judgement!”

Kosian stared at them, still kneeling from his throbbing head. ‘Child of the Thousand Kings? Male…? What sort of hell had he been cursed to?!’ trying to stand, though his knees felt like they would give out any minute, Kosian coughed, clearing his throat just enough to speak. “I do not understand!” he said in a throaty voice. He didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to speak. His throat felt fine, yet something held his voice back. Still, what he said was the truth. He had no idea what it was they wanted of him.

The answer echoed through the blackened space and for a moment, no one said anything. Then, the Jury spoke up, the Holy Diamond made out of human hands behind her burning even brighter as she did. “We ask the Child to speak his crime!” she spoke in a low and melodic voice, with what sounded like an insect clicking interrupting her between her words.

“The Child must tell us of the Fate he has defied!” suddenly said the Executioner, the hands in her hair seemingly writhing as she spoke. For a moment, Kosian thought he saw one of them holding a headsman’s axe.

‘Defied Fate?’ Kosian thought, confused. Thinking for a moment, he felt a chill run down him as he realized what they wanted from him. It had been a gruelling few days. Yet still, the question had been eating at him from the moment he rode out of Baye. Gulping, he breathed.

“I… I forsook my family in favour of my brother,” he said, feeling the words eat him from the inside. It was their fault! Nine years they had spent wasting their lives away, doing fuck all to save Pietre! He had saved him! He hadn’t been sitting on his ass in a blind stupor or fanatical zealotry, trying to think of ways to atone! He was in the right! He knew it!

A peal of guttural laughter echoed, as the Judge spoke: “You believe yourself in the right, Child. Yet what of those you have wronged? What of the father who couldn’t atone for his sins? What of the innocent maid who had her wish of seeing your offspring broken? What of the woman of a broken mind, which you have doomed to die at the pyre? What of them? Were they in the wrong for wanting to accept that which could not be changed?”

Kosian sputtered, then fell silent. The larger mouth of the Judge smiled with those eerie jagged teeth. It suddenly pointed its large finger at him, it's long, revealing the unkempt long nail and its golden rings. “Tell us, Child, were they in the wrong?” Kosian stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say. And if he did know, what would’ve he said? He didn’t even notice how he started to grind his teeth.

“The Child has experienced the Fate he has forgone.”

“The Child has experienced the Fate he has chosen.”

“Now, we must judge his decision!”

As the three beings spoke, Kosian watched them, looking down on him as if he was some lowly bootlicker on the side of an alley. They had no right to judge him! He was the son of the wealthiest merchant in Baye! He… Kosian realized what he was thinking. His father was most likely dead, executed via decapitation as befitted a merchant. Jon most likely hung above one of the gates of Baye, while mother’s pyre was probably still smouldering with embers. By the Lord… he had truly doomed them. Suddenly, Kosian remembered a smiling Pietra. He remembered lying in bed with Jula, rubbing her pregnant belly as she slept. He remembered visiting his mother in the sanatorium. He remembered his father… sitting by the light of the window, reading. He… remembered Jon… lying still as the doctor pronounced her dead. She was still smiling…

With tears in his eyes, Kosian looked at the three beings in front of him. “Please…” he pleaded, stretching his arms forward. “Please… give it back. Give me back my girl. My wife.”

The Jury laughed, the centipedes clambering over her face chittering as they kept scuttling over her face. “That is not a thing in your power to ask for, Child of the Thousand Kings,” she said. Her blurry face suddenly turned stern and serious “and if it was, would you truly want it? Would you forsake the ones who care for you?”

“Would you forsake the one for whom you’ve chosen to tread the path you currently tread?” suddenly asked the Executioner, her wriggling arms stretching, forming the shape of a bun again. Kosian looked at her. Suddenly, images of Pietre flashed before his eyes. Of his melancholic face, looking up at the flowing Band, naming the constellations which made it up. In truth, he had no idea what to think of him. The boy was traumatized. Hurt deeply by his time in the nunnery. Kosian didn’t know him – he didn’t know what he liked to do, what his favourite food was, what made him angry, sad, depressed. And yet, the moment he thought of his brother, Kosian felt something click inside him. Like some sort of mechanism had just been switched on. He had to protect him. Even if it killed him or damned him to somewhere worse than the Red. He had to make sure that butter-haired kid was at least able to taste freedom. He had to make sure he reached Phoenixia. Nothing else mattered as long as they were able to reach Phoenixia. And yet… what awaited them there. He was no longer the son of a renowned and well-known merchant, whose contacts stretched through all of Evea. He was a proclaimed heretic, dressed in the rags of his former glory, his great sin beside him. What would he do once he reached The Land of the Phoenix? Turn to an apprenticeship? Beg in the streets while he and Pietre spent their nights in stables? And what of their parents? What would he tell Pietre? Kosian felt as inexcusable guilt gripped him. He didn’t want this. Why must he be so stubborn! He could’ve just told Guillarme to call it off! Now, they were dead. Each executed just for living in the same space as he, tried as co-conspirators. All because he couldn’t let go of the past. All because of some stupid childhood wish to have a friend…

Kosian allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. What point was there in trying to stop them? He had experienced life. The life he wanted to lead. A quiet life with his wife and daughter as the guild master of the Woolen guild. And yet he couldn’t leave Pietre. He just couldn’t. He was his responsibility. Looking up at the three judges, he sniffled. What had to be done, had to be done.

“What is your judgement?! Am I to suffer eternity here, forever having to gaze upon those hideous forms of yours?!” even as he said these words, making them sound as resolute as possible, Kosian felt like something wasn’t right. The Judge leaned toward him, its finger slightly drooping as it did.

“Such judgement is not in our power!” it said in a tone so neutral it sounded like he was explaining to Kosian why the wind blew. It stayed silent for a moment, before straightening. “I see you’ve realized it…” another unsettling smile appeared on that strange mouth of its. But it wasn’t just him. All three seemed to smile at Kosian.

“Khos, son of Geofroi, son of Valuon, I hereby sentence you to forever bear the mark of the Judged. May it be a reminder of the forlorn Fate which you forewent and the Path you now trod on!” the Judge said, its great finger again pointing at Kosian. Suddenly, the head's eyes opened, shining a brilliant golden light. By the Stars, that head truly was his fathers. That piercing gaze with those two eyes like dark blue stars stared him down. It made Kosian want to bawl his eyes out even more than he was now. He screamed. A searing pain suddenly engulfed him, as the light coming from the eyes concentrated on his chest. Yet, even as he felt a searing pain in his chest, that strange, unsettling feeling occupied his mind. It reminded him of something… but that didn’t matter now. He had chosen. He would continue, no matter what. He had to protect Pietre. He had to… oh, so that was what it was…

Suddenly, the eyes closed and Kosian looked down. A searing brand now decorated his right pec. He couldn’t tell exactly, but it reminded him of the statue behind the three Judges. It hurt. Yet it was nothing compared to the pain he had felt in his head. Trying to breathe evenly, Kosian looked up. The three had gotten closer to him, now standing just in front of him. Up close, Kosian could see the silver embroidery on their robes depicting sprouting flowers, vines and birds in flight. He could see the inlaid gold of the Judge’s rings, the uncountable legs of the centipedes which crawled around the Jury’s face, the long arms of the Executioners hair, each one still holding some kind of tool. As they started chanting in a language so alien to him he couldn’t even understand the sounds they made, Kosian could only think of one thing. ‘It’s a strange feeling… lying to oneself so readily.’

With that thought, Kosian woke, screaming in utter agony. In his mind, he still clung to that fantasy of him getting up, calming Jula and Pietra.