“But before that, make sure you say Lothrigern. He needs to have his name spoken in order to be able to arrive, after all.”

…

Back to the Tales of Creation, there was written how the different gods had made their believers, each one using part of the Authority over which they ruled, and a material they were close to.

Paraiso making humans from clay.

Idhir making humans from iron.

Mirel making humans from ice.

Dodon making humans from seafoam.

Ihilia making humans from sand.

And Arhontissa making humans from wood.

That wasn’t a myth, nor some exaggerated tale, even when it happened more than thousand years ago, and, even when the original humans were long dead, their descendants had less of the materials and were more mixed, that fact remained a reality.

And so, it affected every human and mage in some way, down to their very core, tangled into their existence. A small, microscopic shard of a divine blessing, a remnant of the past.

So, the act of changing faiths, beliefs, and choosing to follow another god was way more complicated than simply changing prayers. Here, four gods roamed the earth, shaping it into their whims. With all that power, it was evident that they didn’t take kindly to any sort of betrayal from their followers.

Velvet knew of Nebura, who had done so, becoming a follower of Arhontissa, getting away without visible repercussions because Dodon was long dead.

Visible, as a big key word. Maybe nothing happened to her, aside from Velvet’s harassment (which she was doing as a revenge for Madam Dorna, not Dodon), but it wasn’t a safe procedure.

But, all of this was to explain how easily it would be for a deity to harm that shard directly, to make a human, a mage’s existence regress back into being a material.

Erin Cardomos' half face was frozen into frostbite, grayish in color, so hard it looked more like stone than ice. That was a mark from betraying Mirel, the biggest incognito surrounding him, of how he had survived doing so.

When she mentioned that, she really meant it. There were no more cases of a human betraying a living god and living to tell the tale. None.

But, as incredible as that feat had been back then, a look at him told Velvet all she needed to know.

He had survived doing so once, but not twice.

Arhontissa hadn’t put all her trust into the mages accompanying Dianthus, nor into Dianthus himself. A deity’s strongest card was always themself.

And, if the mages failed, if Dianthus failed, if the Queen failed, what remained? For something as important as a prophesied savior, would a god cut corners over its ownership? Of course not.

And, when everything else fails, what is a better failsafe than a divine curse? To be unmade by the hands that shaped.

Even when Arhontissa wasn't Erin Cardamomos’ god, she could still touch that shard. No, not could, she had already touched it, the roots crawling under his skin slowly growing in size and quantity.

A certain death, the Prophet wasn’t mistaken about that.

Suddenly she cleared her throat, giving him a smile. “Oh. Where are my manners?” She said, making a well-practiced curtsy. “Velvet Consestella Dobastro, knowledge mage under Ceres.” Not being sure of the relation between Erin and the Mergifari, she refrained from using titles.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“And murderer of fourteen lives. All of them mages.” Was his response, short and dry.

Velvet flinched, taken aback. Was this the passive ability of retribution mages? No wonder it was so useful for Inquisitors.

One of her murders was Cornelius, the others being the thirteen mages that had merged into a flesh portal to summon Frenese.

So he hadn’t counted Nathaniel, but, since he had been brain dead, puppeteered by Siberina’s demon when she killed him, it made sense. And it was good that it didn’t count. A mage that had killed humans was the usual target for the Inquisition.

A mage that killed other mages… not so much.

You can take a mage out of the Inquisition, but not the inquisitor out of a mage. She thought, keeping track of any sudden movements coming from Cardomos. Even when cursed and dying, he was still an Archmage, one she couldn’t hope to defeat in combat.

That didn’t mean she would just surrender and die if things took a wrong turn suddenly. If Cardomos tried to kill her, she would open Frenese’s Book, and call Lothrigern.

“Yes.” She admitted, without trying to justify or defend herself, just confirming the facts.

“How did you enter?” The colorful glass shards moving around her had not disappeared, instead dimming considerably.

Cardomos can’t possibly be worried about me attacking him, so this spell must do something else. Probably a lie detector.

He is worried about someone using the same path as I did. So, whatever he is doing with Dianthus is not over yet.

“Lothrigern brought me.” She wanted to appear smug, even more when Cardomos squinted upon hearing that.

You’re dying soon, let me brag about Lothrigern a little. “And the Prophet sent me.” It wasn’t like she could keep that hidden, and, clarifying that she wasn’t with Arhontissa was probably better than remaining silent.

Cardomos raised one hand, caressing his short stub, where several gray hairs were mixed. He didn’t say anything, but Velvet saw how the formation covering the pocket dimension changed, its symbols, sigils and magic circles spinning and moving around, searching for any opening.

The time inside the pocket dimension changed, from day to night to dawn, all in seconds, as the Archmage rearranged the space.

Velvet looked around the whole time, memorizing all the formation layers possible. It was not every day that one could see the whole skeleton of a pocket dimension, and she was no slacker.

Slowly, all the layers started blending together, growing into a morning sky.

He really did not believe the Lothrigern part. Velvet waited politely, her hands resting together on her skirt. How much time remaining does he have? It can’t be more than three days. She tensed up when Cardomos fixed his gaze on her, getting ready to speak.

“Is your presence here requested by the Prophet?”

“Yes, it told me that-”

“I care not for its prophecies.” Cardomos raised his hand, cutting her sharply, “... Yet its voice is her voice, muddled as it may be. So I will listen.”

Velvet had almost sighed in relief when he continued. “But that changes little. Since you are in my presence, you must first pass judgement.”

The sudden smoke coming from Erin Cardomos’ hand, no, Esca, swirled upon his palm, taking shape. Velvet flinched, intending to summon Frenese, but Hyde’s voice made her stop.

“Don’t. You can pass his trial. You already defeated them once, didn’t you?”

The swirl took shape, into a pair of weighing scales, small enough to fit into Cardomos’ hand. He grabbed it by the top, activating his Embodiment. “Grudge of the fallen. Ephalses.”

She felt a tug on her chest, deep into her heart, pulling something out. Then, a heart took position inside one of the scales, breaking the equilibrium and lowering one side.

“I call forth the accusation.” On the empty side, blood started appearing, filling the plate until spilling, down into the ground, with more and more and more, a constant red waterfall that gave no signs of stopping.

How big were her sins? Could she confront the grudge of the dead under her own hand? The blood started bulging, piling up into shapes.

Fourteen lives, fourteen corpses. Thirteen of whom were a tangled mess when she found them, and remained one when she killed them. Thirteen whose grudge was also a tangled mess, of limbs, of faces, of flesh.

And, one more human, with long golden hair, and noble air. One whose head she had shot, pulling the trigger when his back was turned.

Fourteen people she had killed, and fourteen that she would kill again.