Mindlessly, my palm traced the fresh pink skin that had formed over my burned abdomen. Muscle and flesh had grown back fully, and a faint fuzz of hair now covered the tender surface. It was as if I were preparing myself for the next time I would feel that burning return—when I would again call upon the Sisters’ Gifts.

They would not let me forget. But it was easier if I reminded myself first—like the voices of the dead. Easy to forget if you let them go, yet still able to haunt you.

My mind was still struggling to adjust to the revelation I had moments before. I had ordered the immediate removal of the… creature from its cage and its confinement within the Central Command’s tent. There were questions that demanded answers, and I assumed the Church’s surviving representatives—after yesterday’s massacre—would be eager to pursue them as well.

So I waited, outside the tent, for them to arrive and begin. Midday had come, and the fires had been lit in the pits beyond Lapurum. The air carried both the city’s body and its soul in thick black smoke.

“Heads up, Praefectus!”

I heard the familiar voice before I saw him. From the corner of my eye, something came flying toward me. I raised a hand and caught it mid-flight. The smiling face of my friend greeted me. In my grasp was a plain linen shirt.

I raised my brows, keeping my gaze on the fabric. “Aside from saving my life, are you handing out modesty lessons too now?” I asked, letting out a short chuckle.

“I thought you’d have had enough time to heal from yesterday, sir,” Felix replied as he closed the distance between us.

Relief washed over me at the sight of him. I had known he survived yesterday’s ordeal, but seeing him whole and unscathed eased a tension I hadn’t realized I carried. Still, his tone felt a touch too cheerful for the graves that still smoked around us.

“Did you manage to salvage anything from what was there before we came?” I asked, gesturing toward the pillars of smoke, the shirt still in my hand.

He turned his head, the light striking him from behind so that his black curls were wreathed in gold and his face was hidden in shadow.

“Well,” he began, “the city’s defenses are gone, but they can be rebuilt. Some of the commoners’ blocks went up in flames before we got there—probably the Amplifier behind us didn’t have a ‘clear view’ of the walls and washed over anything it could. Fortunately, Lapurum’s central church and treasury were left untouched. With the important parts intact, rebuilding shouldn’t take long.”

Pride glimmered in his voice, and I suspected he had a hand in what he called ‘fortunate.’

“What about the civilians, Legatus?” I asked, pressing the question. “Are there enough left to rebuild?”

“They’ll manage, I suppose,” he said, dismissing it as though it were a matter too small to trouble command.

“Now that we…” I paused for a moment. “Liberated them, we’ll help them rebuild. Better. Pure.” I said to Felix, finishing the task of pulling on the shirt he’d offered me.

His expression turned thoughtful. His blond brows broke into a furrow, and his eyes let the ground pull them downward.

“Have you seen it, sir?” he asked, glancing back up at me.

“Were you there when they caught it?” I asked in return, assuming he must have been present during the charge on the walls.

“No, sir. Not for that one, at least.” His answer only raised more questions.

“Do you mean there were more of them up there?” I pressed.

“A dozen at most, I’d say. We rushed those filthy monstrosities and burned them to dust. I can’t imagine what vile sorcery conjured them. I can barely stomach why we brought this one here. We should have put it to the sword on sight.” He looked as though he wanted to continue, but I stopped him.

“At ease, Legatus. I believe I understand your position well enough. But keep your replies to the point, if you would.”

That was enough to make him release the tension in his throat and let out a small sigh.

“You’re right, Praefectus. I’m just… frustrated with what our people went through today. And blame me if you must, but I believe those daimons were the cause of this wound.”

“And that is what we are here to find out,” I told him, offering what hope I could.

The breeze that had been gifting us a precious relief from His midday brightness suddenly turned warmer. The reason became apparent as the clergy’s procession appeared on the horizon.

They moved as one body along the sand-paved route of the camp. Their white regalia caught and scattered the Lifegiver’s rays, making them a luminous extension of His will.

The men and women of the Legio dropped whatever task they were engaged in. Some let their gear fall from their hands, others stopped their conversations mid-sentence; a few froze at the wash basins, half-covered in dirt. All showed reverence and humility—saluting on sight, some even raising their voices in praise.

“Blessed be the ones who delivered us from evil!” one called.

“Glory You gifted us with; humility we give You in return!” sang others.

The reverence they received was well earned. The Hierophant leading them—Grand Oscillator Laverdirus Eryx—was the one who had made the siege possible in the end. Had he and his priests not been left standing, I can scarcely imagine any of us would still be here now.

“Brace yourself, Legatus,” I said to Felix, lowering my voice. “Something tells me they won’t be pleased to see me still breathing after what I had to do.”

His radiance was painful to look upon from this close. I could make out the others now—the young priests who followed him. Their heads were shaven, their robes a dimmer white, paling beside his brilliance.

As I studied their faces, trying to decipher the enigma of their expressions, it struck me—there were four of them, not three. A survivor, then, from the clergy struck down during the battle? It must have been.

I looked again as they drew nearer.

 Three pairs of eyes met mine; one turned away.

It was her—the young priestess who had stood with me at the frontline Amplifier. Her pale complexion seemed even more ghastly now, touched with the pink rims of sleepless eyes and the defeat that hung from her lowered head. She was a wound upon their proud procession.

A deluge of saluting hands thundered as they struck armor and chest—the sound rolling around the tent as Felix and I joined the motion.

“Greetings, Honored Hierophant. Your presence here is deeply appreciated,” I proclaimed as he came within range.

“Hold your sycophantic praise, Paladin,” he replied, my title wrapped in a tinge of disgust.

I sensed the unease his reply had stirred in Felix, even though the contempt was meant for me.

I pressed on, unwilling to let that feeling take root.

“Nevertheless, we have been patiently waiting for your arrival. There is much to discuss with our prisoner. I trust you are aware of the peculiarity of its condition?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

His steel-gray eyes twitched, and his silvered brows faltered—as though the thought that I might know more than he did had unsettled him. I’m not proud of it, but I couldn’t let his tone go unanswered.

“We are all aware of what lies before us, Praefectus,” he said, his gaze fixed on the Command tent ahead. Without another glance, he quickened his pace to enter.

As the group advanced toward the entrance, the sentry outside broke from his salute and hurried to pull the canvas flap aside, murmuring words of reverence as they passed.

I waited until they had all gone inside. Then I turned to Felix.

“Are you ready for this, Legatus?”

“Yes, Praefectus,” he replied, his tone professional and steady.

“Remember, Felix,” I said more quietly as I stepped closer, “we’re here to gather what information we can. Vengeance will have to wait.”

“I’m aware, Praefectus—don’t worry about me. I have the sense that someone else might need to show more restraint.” He tilted his eyes toward the tent, the accusation plain.

“Then let’s brace ourselves,” I said, extending my arm to invite him inside.