This wasn't the first time I'd seen a heretic.

  Arthur and I first met in the Northern Forest. Back then, amid the flames and the screams, it felt like Hell itself had crawled up from beneath the roots. I'd hoped I'd never see one of these sick fuckers again.

  And yet here I was, face-to-face with something far worse.

  Because this time I didn’t have protection.

  He was strong. I didn't need proof - I could feel it in the pounding of my heart, in the way the air seemed to freeze as he stared at us. I'd fought cultists before, but never like this. Not this close. Not this calm. He wasn't frenzied or flailing.

  He was composed.

  And he was enjoying this.

  I instinctively took a step back. No breath from me or Mary. We both knew, without saying a word - we were no match. We had only just awakened. Our grasp of our Pathways was still embryonic, clumsy. He could kill us both in a blink if he wanted to. Which begged the question...

  Why hasn't he killed us yet?

  Unfortunately, I already knew the answer.

  As he stepped fully into the room, I caught my first real look at him.

  He wore a plain, dark robe. Too clean for someone so filthy inside. And on his chest was a glowing black sun, burning dimly with violet embers. The moment I saw it, the memories came rushing back.

  The Cult of the Black Sun. They were a cult based on the Northern border of the Empire, who hadn’t been active for the last couple of years.

  Which begged the question-

  Why is a Black Sun all the way here in Morren?

  It can’t have been for us right? How would they even know we were here?

  "...You're one of them," I said, trying to sound confident. My voice was dry. "Cult of the Black Sun, right?"

  He stared at me like a spider inspecting a fly caught in its web - curious, not yet bored.

  Then he smiled wide. His eyes lit up with twisted glee.

  "Ohhh, my little angel does know things! How delightful!" He took a slow step forward, still staring at me with the same crazed eyes. "Yes. That's right. I was told you were a cunning and intuitive child, it seems like they were right."

  The last comment caught my attention right away, but I had no time to think.

  I had to keep him talking. I prayed Mary was doing what I hoped she was.

  With a strained grin, I played the fool. "So, what? Revenge for the Nameless Ones? They were exterminated four years ago. You heretics never could take a loss without-"

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  I didn't get to finish.

  In a flash, his hand snapped out, wrapping around my neck and lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing. There was no divine energy. Just raw, monstrous strength.

  S-Shit, not good.

  I struggled against the grip around my throat, to no avail. His hand felt like a iron clamp, refusing to budge to any force.

  He tilted his head, a rotting eye under his mask narrowing. His voice was a deep, raspy growl that vibrated in my bones.

  "I'd be careful with your words, little angel," he whispered. "He who kneels to the false prophet receives only one mercy from me. Luckily for you, you're a beloved child. So I believe discipline should be enough."

  His grip tightened. My vision blurred. My lungs screamed.

  I clawed at his hand, uselessly. Fate, it seemed, had no intention of saving me this time either.

  The shadows seemed to only be agitated, as though they were waiting for something.

  Then, finally - he dropped me.

  I collapsed to the floor, hacking and gasping, trying to will air back into my lungs. Every breath burned, like my lungs were on fire.

  "I don’t take pleasure in punishing you, but lessons must be learnt quickly. After all," he cooed, crouching beside me like a man admiring a pet. "You two are far too precious."

  He stroked my hair, almost lovingly. My skin crawled. It was like he was bipolar. I could only grimace as I stared at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.

  Sick bastard.

  His gaze drifted to Mary, watching her face.

  He whispered in my ear. His breath reeked of rot and copper.

  "Originally, I came to burn this place to the ground. Cleanse the piggies and their filth. But you… you two changed that. They said you'd be here, boy. But little did I know one of the piggies offspring bears the mark of the Angels as well."

  Then - he stood.

  Suddenly and without warning, he grabbed Mary's hands and spun her into a twisted dance. Her eyes went wide, horror etched into her face as he twirled her like a broken doll.

  "Ahhh, joy! Maybe we're not so different after all! Believers, born of two sides!" He cackled madly, a genuine smile of happiness on his face. "Though the Nameless Ones were always insufferable. Glad they didn't join us."

  My mind raced.

  Who are they and how the hell did they know about my eyes? And who’s us? Did the Black Suns make an alliance?

  What the hell is going on?

  When in the hell do heretics ever work together?

  Then, he stopped.

  He cupped Mary's face, in an affectionate way, as though he were Mary's father.

  But his smile froze like a mask. His eyes flicked to his bloodied hand... and then to her cheek, where a faint glow had begun to rise.

  His gaze turned downward. I couldn't see his expression exactly, but I could see Mary's.

  Utter horror.

  Shit, he found it.

  "Show me your hand," he hissed.

  Still lying on the ground, I could only watch anxiously.

  Any second now...

  I prayed. Not to the Emperor. Not to God. To anything listening.

  He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand into view.

  The moment he saw it - his expression cracked.

  Etched in glowing gold beneath the blood, a magic circle pulsed - alive and radiant. Divine energy shimmered and spiraled along the lines, gathering into her palm like sunlight melting ice.

  He froze.

  And then-

  He vanished.

  Just like that.

  Gone.

  Like he'd never existed.