Surrounded by an angry crowd of villagers, Nestor was experiencing both the last and worst moment of his life.

As a monk and firm believer of the church, he could never have imagined that such a cruel fate awaited him.

The hot, scorching flame danced around his body, crawling up his skin, and burning him alive. Did he ever do anything to deserve such an end?

Nestor had always lived his own life, he complied with every demand his superiors back at the monastery asked for. Only, he had never been a truly pious monk, he wasn't as faithful as his brothers, dedicating their whole being to God.

In truth, Nestor's story wasn't an adventurous one, he led quite the monotonous one. He was born as an orphan in the medieval city of Florence during the first years of the fifteenth century. At the time, the devastating epidemic that afflicted the European populace from about 1314 to 1402 was about to end.

Unfortunately for him, his parents died as victims of the plague, and a few months after his birth he was left as an orphan, one among many others.

Abandoned, in such chaotic times, not even his relatives weren't kind enough to shoulder one more mouth to feed.

Luckily so, still in his state of infancy, Nestor had been welcomed through the merciful rows of the church. He never questioned the nature behind this stroke of luck, maybe, even if a tad bit too late, it was finally time to.

'My life did I truly let it flow on the palm of the church. Did they nurture and take me among the other brothers, because of the sacred and just principles they so much preach about?'

Since he had memory, Nestor found himself confined inside the walls of the Shaded valley monastery. A pure soul he was, dedicating himself to studying the teachings of the bible and transcribing ancient volumes. Without ever complying, he was grateful for what he had and simply wanted to keep going on with his life. Even if that meant he had to discard his passions, dreams, and integrity.

He knew that if he wanted to keep going, he needed to take for granted every word, opinion, and belief that was imparted to him.

Yet, now that he thought about his life from a more detached point of view, he did not completely abide by these mental constraints necessary for his survival.

Of course, that had to be the case. Otherwise, now, he wouldn't be burning at the stake, labeled as a dirty sinner.

Nestor quickly figured that he had always been granted more freedom than the other monks.

Needless to say, after the great plague, many families among the commoners required assistance. Nestor in particular, was fond of his pilgrimages around villages in Florence, to go about, and help those in need. The monks of the church were also known for their medical knowledge, even if often incorrect or driven by superstition, which was still better than nothing.

His dull monotonous life slightly resplended of a different shade of color whenever words of gratitude were directed at him.

With a hefty stash of medicinal herbs, he often took long leaves even without the abbot's permission. Nestor had never been reprimanded for this, which was anything but normal, yet he never really questioned why before. One could think that humans were truly complex beings, and maybe he had taken the abbot's fancy, after all, he wasn't going out to squander the Church's resources.

This time, however, Nestor had been given a mission by the abbot in person. He was to visit a rural village situated a few kilometers south of the monastery. To proselytize and help the poor if needed, with the help of the local church.

He planned to stay there a few days, before going back to the monastery. Nestor wasn't too stingy towards those poor souls living in dire conditions. In fact, not only each time, did he make sure to depart with the best reserves of herbs, and medical concoctions he had, but he also brought a backpack worth of food.

Here again, was another abnormal situation. Nestor had been highly inefficient, even if he did he good share of work at the monastery, each time he went out was like a black hole. Sucking all their hard-earned donations.

Yet till yesterday night, everything was fine. All of a sudden, a strange phenomenon occurred. His precious medallion started to tremble and sin and circles on its own.

The vibrations made Nestor suddenly awake, was this thing possessed? Was the superstition of the people true all along?

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

A mild headache suddenly hit him. Was this really the first time it behaved this way?

No, how could it be... Yes, in truth this wasn't the first time his precious keepsake manifested such unbelievable behavior.

Sometimes it emitted an ominous green light, maybe even moved on its own, albeit not as vigorously.

The silver medallion roughly depicted two knights crossing their swords over an arched gate as if gatekeeping its entrance.

The pendant was the only memento left behind by his mother, he was sentimentally attached to the antique. At first, he simply kept it closer to him at night, it somehow gave him a sense of comfort, helping him to sleep. As time passed, he grew attached to it, finally, he put it on a golden chain making it into a necklace, carrying it around as a lucky charm.

As of later, the number of times it acted in a weird, mystical way increased. Nestor started to hide it from plain view, even leaving it hidden in his room.

At this point, he understood that the origin of such an object could only be two, the teachings of the church didn't give much leeway in front of such a thing.

It must have been either a relic left behind by the Christian god or a cursed item of blasphemous origins.

Yet he couldn't report his discoveries to the abbot, it was too late, not only was the medallion bound to get confiscated, but he would receive punishment.

Tonight, his whole world fell apart, now it was obvious to him that the secrecy he tried to protect so much, maybe had never been a secret in the first place.

Under the full moon, the medallion held near his chest started to violently tremble. As he suddenly woke up, he tightly held the keepsake to make it stop spinning.

'Stop, stop it! Let me sleep in peace, tomorrow we'll have a long walk to get back to the monastery. I need rest please!'

In the medallion's plans, there was no such a thing, on the contrary, now it even started to emit a sickly, pale green light all over.

At this moment, someone started banging at the door, demanding him to open it or they'd have to break it open.

Going back a few minutes. Inside the little, stony walls of the local church.

"Esteemed Inquisitor, the sinner is inside this room. As you have just witnessed, I believe the situation is self-explanatory, the medallion must be a cursed object left by the devil."

With a grin on his face, Don Daniel, the local priest stationed here, excitedly made way for the tall man trailing behind him.

The inquisitor was surprisingly tall, towering over the little ball that was Don Daniel, reaching almost two meters in height

Together with his trained, muscular body made sure to come out as an imposing figure. He was rocking a black suit decorated with religious patterns and hung a short sword on his belt.

Even if pressured by the stature of the inquisitor, Don Daniel was already ecstatic, he could feel it, that particular taste so rare yet delicious. He couldn't wait for the little show awaiting him tomorrow.

The deep, serious voice of the inquisitor interrupted his joyous celebration.

" I will proceed as instructed by the bishop. I will make sure this sinner won't stain our Lord's name ever again."

He then gestured for the fat priest to scram. He had learned about the specifics of this one monk, and orders to dispose of him had come directly from Rome. He was beyond saving, a tool that lost his purpose.

Nonetheless, it wasn't really Nestor's fault, Paolo didn't approve of such unorthodox decisions, still, he needed to execute his mission.

It was truly a pity, that corrupted, twisted priests like Don Daniel managed to keep on living while more genuine yet unlucky souls had to perish. But life wasn't fair, it had never been. Perhaps Nestor should have prayed more, for their Lord to spare him from this end.

The next day at noon, Nestor woke up, his whole body was in pain. His wrists and feet tightly tied with a rope over a wooden pole were aching and hurting all over. His beck bent so much that he wondered how much time it would need for him to walk again.

' If I ever will. I'm clearly being sentenced to death here.'

One zealous look at the situation he was in was enough.

His memories started to resurface with a splitting headache, one too many as of late. The night before, he had been brutally beaten unconscious by an inquisitor. He already recognized him watching among the crowd of villagers around the pyre.

" Attention everyone! Today I have invited you, to assist this important celebration. We are united to punish the evil out of our lands! To banish them from the world of the living, to send this sinner to his place of belonging! In Hell! "

Daniel's fingers trembled with excitement as the crowd of villagers attentively listened to his speech, already armed to the teeth with stones and sticks.

Even those, that had previously received Nestor's care, had come here to witness the execution.

How shameless, how dirty. Yet Nestor couldn't hold such a grudge against them, they had no choice. The villagers couldn't rebel against the words of the inquisitor, they had not developed such a conscience.

His eyes set on the inquisitor made the gears on his head spin once again, linking his presence to the other multiple oddities he discovered.

'It can't be that he simply passed by the village and discovered the medallion by change, no, it's obviously not.

It must have been a joint operation with me as the target, they wanted to get rid of me.'

Nestor's pain and suffering were nothing but entertainment that fueled Don Daniel's twisted psyche.

With a wide grin, he threw one torch at a time at the base of the pyre. Elated, the priest was savoring the view of Nestor's crucified figure.

'I have always dreamt of such a moment! The crowd, the heat, The fire! '

" God be our witness today, for we are getting rid of this heretic who disguised himself as a pious believer for years!

Sir, you can start with the execution! Our devout followers, vent your anger onto this blasphemous creature.

It's because of them that the plague afflicted our world! That that famines still plague our land!

Now it's time to make them pay!"

Then the incited crowd of angry villagers shouted, spitting words of anger, and throwing rocks at the acclaimed source of evil.