A path born of pain,

born of sacrifice.

But upon that path,

One shall find Her Mercy.

-The Gospel According to the Holy First Handmaiden

Morkad seethed darkness, and standing across the courtyard from him, Celeste felt as though every ounce of the Chaos that poured forth from the man was focused on her. Like cold, bony fingers it wrapped around her arms, her stomach, her neck. It pressed into her, frigid grasp tightening her throat, pressing against her chest, and constricting her every muscle. The Chaos suffocated the air around her, darkened the moonlight as it struggled to reach her, filled the air with the fetid scent of rot. Breathing short, shallow, breaths, Celeste tasted mold, tasted diseased flesh, and tainted waters. Images filled her mind, images of fire, of screaming children and mothers, of murder and death and decay wrapping her every thought, pressing into it tight. She could feel Morkad, could feel the twisted Chaos rushing out of him. She could feel it all, and she knew she had to save him.

That was what she had promised the Ga’Na, her friend. Celeste had sworn she would to this man’s grandmother. To a woman who loved him, as Ethinia loved all. Looking at Morkad, his pale white complexion, his cheekbones jutting out of parchment dry skin, she could only see sorrow. Chaos had taken root within the man’s soul, like a diseased tree festering from within, but the noble boughs were still there. Buried deep now, but there was a man behind that darkness. She could save him, she had to.

“I’m sorry Morkad.” Celeste called out; her voice far steadier than she felt. Squaring herself, she faced the man. “I’m sorry for the pain you’ve been burdened with all these years. But this revenge will bring you only sorrow. It’s never too late to leave this path.” Celeste’s lip quivered, betraying her trepidation.

Morkad’s face turned from a grin to a sneer. “You sound like my grandmother.” He spat at the word. “But like her, you do not understand.”

“I do understand.” Celeste stepped forward, her heart racing. “I know what was done to you. I know that they beat you near to death, I know of the ridicule you faced in the Academy. I know of how you were spurned by your own people. Your Ga’Na told me all Morkad. I know it, and it’s time for you to stop.”

“You’re wasting your time Your Radiance.” Gardinal growled from next to her, pushing to stand between her and the Korek man. From behind she heard Vallerian’s bowstring straining. This did not need to come to more bloodshed, not while she could still speak to the man.

“Listen to your priest, Prophetess.” Morkad chuckled, a harrowing sound that echoed through the too still courtyard. “I did not search you out for a sermon.” At that, Morkad rolled his shoulders back, the cloak slipping off to reveal his uncovered torso. “I came to kill you.” Celeste gasped at the sight.

Morkad’s body was as emaciated as his face, with skeletal ribs beneath the skin, and all his muscles clear beneath paper thin grey-white skin. But above that, crisscrossing every inch of his flesh, were thousands of scars. Tens of thousands even, and from the jagged black knife he held in one hand, she didn’t have to guess that most were self-inflicted.

“Commitment, child, that is what I have that your people lack. I will not be swayed by your honeyed tongue, for I have heard the voice of Chaos, and found the truths your gods fear.”

“Heretic!” Gardinal snarled.

“Blasphemy.” Valleresa echoed.

“Ethinia fears much.” Celeste spoke up, laying a gentle hand on Gardinal’s shoulder. “Most of all, She fears Her children losing themselves on their journey back to Her.” Celeste breathed in deeply, felt the Chaos seeping into her lungs with every breath, but steadied herself against it. “But no child is too lost Morkad. Not one. The Mother forgives all, and even you can find redemption still.”

At that, Morkad let out a hollow laugh that seemed to reverberate off every marble pillar and gilded wall in the courtyard.

“Your goddess’s mercy means nothing to me child.” He took a step forward, and Gardinal and Kriss both stepped up, blocking all but a sliver of the man from her view. “And quit with your futile attempts to appeal to the man I was. Morkad is dead girl, only X remains.” Placing the tip of the jagged dagger against his opposite wrist, a thin stream of blood trickled into his hand. “And X will be your end.” Pulling hard, X severed his hand. The pale boney appendage falling to his feet, fingers clenched like a dead spider. Blood seemed to pool out around it.

An arrow shot past Celeste’s ear, whistling through the air faster than she could think.

“No!” Celeste shouted.

Looking past Kriss and Gardinal though, she did not see a dead man. X stood where he had, his bloodied arm raised, and an arrow caught in front of his face by a hand as red as the blood that it had grown from. With his unnaturally long, sinewy fingers, X snapped the arrow in half.

“Lord Vallerian.” X mused. “You have proven unexpectedly frustrating. How sweet it will be, making you watch as I slaughter your sister.”

Gardinal roared, rushing out ahead as Kriss followed up behind. Another arrow whistled through the air, easily dodged by the shockingly agile X, and Celeste could hear as Vallerian notched another. Stepping forward, Celeste was pulled back harshly by Valleresa.

“Stay back Radiance.” She whispered, and Arabella on the other side uttered an agreement. Their drawn draggers glimmered in the moonlight as they stepped in front of Celeste.

Celeste’s eyes dashed back to her friends as Gardinal and Kriss narrowed in on the Korek man. Both men were starving street hounds, ready to tear into the man like their next meal. A tear trickled down her cheek. Why had it come to this?