Teris was gone in the morning, though a few shed feathers still rested in front of the fireplace.

As I readied myself for the day, I made plans– thought of how best to get into the dungeons to see Erendi without permission, considered the best way to go about poking into the affairs of the Church. It would be a lot easier if I could get someone on the inside, but I hadn’t exactly been spending my time here making friends with the Chantry. Sryes was basically the only person with whom I’d held a full conversation, excepting Dahl, and I doubted she would be willing to spy for me, even if she had seemed to be a reasonable sort.

My plans all went out the window very quickly as someone knocked on my door repeatedly, more hammering on it than knocking, really.

I irritably walked over and yanked the door open. “What–” I cut off almost immediately, stunned to see a boy in the matte black ghost mask of the Turyn standing outside.

“My lord, the Priest has called for you. There were soldiers at the doors.”

My blood ran cold, heart pounding in my ears, just as it had a week ago when I had taken off running down the same path upon hearing the ringing of the bells. I’d been too late for Callian, and I had sick feeling in my stomach that I was going to be too late for Priest too.

The consequences of living two lives, a voice in the back of my mind whispered, not one of its other residents, but my own condemnation of myself.

I looked at the boy; he was tired, breathing heavily. He wasn’t going to be able to keep up. “Stay here,” I told him. “Wait in my room until I return.”

“But sir–”

“Do it,” I snapped, and then took off running, trusting that the boy would do as I said. He had to; he looked far too tired to do otherwise.

The path was meant to be familiar to me but invisible to others, but I could see now the signs of many more footsteps traveling the same route from the city, could see the booted imprints of soldiers. But how? Had I been followed? It had been resting, hidden, for years; how had they found it? And why now?

Rufais’ words rang in my ears, blaming me and “my kind” for the death of his son, for the death of his wife. Had this simply been the last straw?

The chapel was smoking when I arrived, not completely burnt to the ground due to the stone foundation of it, but the wood, the parts of it that had been woven into the trees, that was all destroyed and the area smelled heavily of smoke. I was somewhat shocked they had been willing to risk a fire so near to some of their precious trees and, indeed, a few were singed. It looked like they had set the fire from inside of the chapel, though, the stone helping to keep it confined.

There were coughing acolytes gathered around the outside, already starting to quietly rebuild, and I felt a sense of relief that they hadn’t all been slaughtered.

Priest, though, was sitting, propped up in the partially collapsed doorway, blood on his robe.

I ran to him, kneeling in the dirt next to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you lead them here?” he asked, voice hoarse but wry. “Why are you sorry?”

“This is because Rufais–”

“Is mad. He has lost his wife, lost his son, and perhaps his sanity was not the best to begin with.”

“How did he find you?”

“I think some always knew we were here. Now, to curry favor, perhaps, that secret became publicly spoken.”

“House Durnin,” I realized. “The Logging Guild. That rift-cursed–”

“Leon,” Priest scolded mildly.

I bit my tongue.

“It matters not who.”

“Did they kill anyone?” It was a harsh question, but I needed to know. Needed to know if there were bodies to be buried.

“No. They told us to be out of the city before nightfall.”

I hesitated.

“The matrons are taking the acolytes and heading North, to Morrigan. I hear they have only become more welcoming in the last few years.”

“What about you?”

“I am an old man, Leon. I have lived here, and I have lived a good life. I will not run.”

“At least come into the city with me. I can set you up at the inn; Berd is a good man, he won’t say anything.”

“I am a priest, Leon. I will stay.”

I fruitlessly struggled for an argument that I thought would convince him.

“The boy,” he continued as though we hadn’t been discussing his impending death a moment ago, “is he well?”

“Yes. Tired. I told him to stay in my room. I’ll walk back with him shortly, make sure he arrives safely,” I promised. “When are the rest leaving?”

“They insist on rebuilding the chapel, enough to make it livable for me,” Priest said with a fond smile. “Once the work is done, they will depart.”

“I’ll go fetch the boy then. He’ll want to be involved. We can both help.”

“Don’t you have work to be doing–”

“This is more important.”

Priest looked slightly surprised, but he didn’t argue with me. If anything, I thought maybe he looked a little proud. “I was glad to call you one of mine, even if just for a short time.”

“Don’t talk like that. I’m going to have a word with Rufais.”

“Leon,” Priest cautioned.

“His issue isn’t with you. If he’s angry with me, he can take it out on me,” I snapped.

“And when he takes it out on those you have protected?”

“Like he just did?” I retorted.

“It’s not worth it. They are leaving,” Priest said softly, looking into my eyes and willing me to understand. He didn’t want anyone dying for him, anyone suffering for him.

I clenched my jaw. “Do you think he’ll be satisfied?” I asked in a soft voice. “When we’re all gone, do you really think it will end?” He looked down, and I saw the weariness, the sorrow in his eyes, in the lines of his face. “Besides,” I half-smiled, “where will I worship?”

“The altar will remain,” Priest reminded me. “Visit. For me.”

“I’ll visit you,” I corrected mildly before standing. “I’ll go fetch the boy.”

Priest nodded slowly, and I headed back for the inn.

The guards eyed me with a mixture of wariness and sympathy; they knew now where I had been, some had probably put together where I had been going on a regular basis when I left the city. I ignored them. Their thoughts and opinions weren’t important, not about this, not right now.

“They’re rebuilding the chapel,” I said as soon as I opened the door to my hotel room, the boy bolting upright from where he had been sitting on my bed. “Then the acolytes are all departing for the Morrigan Houslends.”

“Then why rebuild it at all?” he asked, though he fell in step beside me easily enough without having to be told. He knew I had come to get him.

Berd made no comment as we passed back through the lobby together.

“Priest is staying.” The words felt bitter on my tongue.

“What? He can’t do that! We’ll convince him to come, we’ll–”

Irrational irritation rose within me, and I scoffed, cutting the boy off, “You think you’re going to convince him? He is the Priest of the Chapel at Ildanach. His mask says as much. He isn’t going to leave.” I said the words with a certainty that I hadn’t known I had felt and sighed after voicing them. “He’s not going to leave.”

The boy’s expression fell, and I knew exactly how he felt.

I patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll do what I can.”

“You’re not leaving either?”

“Of course not.”

“Because you’re the Hero of Ildanach,” the boy said quietly, and I turned to stare at him. “Your mask says as much,” he echoed my words back at me.

Is that what the mask said now?

“I suppose there are worse things,” I said quietly, and we walked in silence under the open gate. A few people shifted uncomfortably at the fact that there were two of us now, but I ignored them.

Was this what a hero did? Watched the world burn around them and helped clean up the pieces? That certainly wasn’t the job that had been advertised in the plays and stories, but I knew better– or at least I’d thought I’d known better. The mask had been meant to say something good, not hero necessarily, but something positive. It was designed in the colors of Palados, the colors of justice and light, even if he wasn’t a god we followed. So I’d accomplished the goal, hadn’t I?

Was it good to be a hero of a place that did this?

I looked around the wreckage of the chapel, the dejected faces of teenagers and maidens as they attempted to reconstruct something that resembled the structure that had stood there only this morning. What did it mean to be a hero? Was it just another word for soldier? Maybe I hadn’t been trying something new after all.

We got to work, patchworking half-charred boards that still maintained most of their integrity and broken stone onto the roof, hoping there was enough materials from the broken spires to at least cover the width of the structure without any ornamentation.

There were a couple dozen of us, and the work wasn’t difficult, even if it was physically taxing; the job was done in a couple of hours. I stood somewhat awkwardly as the others said their heartful goodbyes to the priest before beginning their journey.

“Do they have supplies?” I asked Priest, watching them walk through the forest.

“There was a caravan performing plays in the Highcity for the past few weeks,” Priest said. “They ought to be able to join their group. August is a good man.”

I nodded slowly, recognizing vaguely the name of the troupe leader. It was strange to think that Ava and I had watched them perform just a week or so ago. Things had changed so quickly.

“You can’t stand around here all day,” Priest prodded me, going to head partially inside the makeshift chapel, resting on the steps under an awning formed by the roof jutting out over the walls. “You have work to do.”

“Won’t you come back to the inn with me?” I pleaded. “Just until Rufais calms himself. This can’t last forever. Then you can come back, we can rebuild the chapel the rest of the way together, things can–”

“What, go back to the way they were?” Priest sounded upset for perhaps the first time I had ever heard. “Because everything was great the way it was before. Our acolytes couldn’t leave the forest, Leon. Our maidens were harassed in the streets. We were hiding, building our sanctuary into the trees that this city prizes more than our lives. He has always hated us. He will always hate us. He blames us for bringing the plague that killed his wife, and he has blamed us for everything since.”

He looked down, half-closing his eyes. “And I am tired. So very tired of living this life. No, I will not leave. I will not close the doors. They have been open, open through the plague that he blames us for bringing, open through the hatred, and open they will stay. They will close over my dead body. I am the Priest of the Chapel of Ildanach. My face speaks of it. And I will not abandon my place.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “Forgive me for trying to convince you otherwise,” I finally said, quiet. “So long as the doors are open, this is my chapel, and I will worship here.”

“I know you want to save me,” Priest patted my leg, “but I can hear the Raven calling. I am happy to die for her, for them, at the time they would appoint, whether that is tomorrow at dawn or years yet longer. You can’t save everyone.”

“I’d honestly settle for one,” I responded wryly.

“Then pick a better one than this old man,” Priest rebounded, smiling.

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“I can think of few who meet that qualification.”

“Bah. Flattery will get you nowhere. Now run along, unless you intend to pray.” Priest struggled slightly to his feet, though he refused my offered hand of aid as he walked unsteadily into the dark building. “I’m going to clean up.”

“I could help,” I offered.

“I think you have delayed your responsibilities long enough. As, I think, have I.”

I took his meaning and inclined my head. “Goodday, Priest.”

“Goodbye, Leon.”

There was a finality in his tone, and I had to clench my jaw to keep myself from saying anything to object to it as I turned and slowly headed back into the city. In the distance, I could still see the walking forms of the party of acolytes and maidens who had left the chapel, heading towards covered wagons that appeared to have stopped for them.

Teris?

In response, the raven flew down and landed on my shoulder, a surprisingly indiscreet show of our connection, but I couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment.

Would you follow them until they cross the border? Make sure they’re not followed or attacked?

Once again silently, Teris took off and headed towards the caravan, circling slowly above them. I hoped they viewed him as a sign of the Sisters watching over them.

I continued my meandering slowly back under the gate, only seeing my own boots as I made my way down the main route of the city towards the central square, passing through the open gates into the courtyard and stopping in the middle of the area. I looked at the Highlord’s Manor, then over at the Cathedral. Part of me wanted to go see Dahl, accuse him of everything to his face just to see his reaction, see if I could taunt him into revealing something important. I knew that was a stupid strategy, but I wanted to hit something, and Dahl’s face seemed like the best option.

But I needed to be diplomatic, and I needed to talk to Rufais. Maybe there was a chance he could still see reason, or maybe I could at least irritate him enough to focus more on me and less on everyone else.

I took a breath and walked up to the Highlord’s Manor, heading inside and walking towards the Judgment Hall.

“The Highlord isn’t receiving visitors,” one of the guards said, and they seemed to both recognize me and be wary of me attempting to slip past them, as both of them stood up straighter and crossed their pikes over the doorway.

“Sure, sure. Then tell him, if you would, that I’ll be leaving the city with the rest of my kind, and that he can have fun dealing with the Aeron and Tirnaog alliance without me.” It was a bluff, but hopefully not one he would notice. I could always just take my team with me, after all.

The guards exchanged looks. One of them was a pretty good bluffer himself, but I could see the panic in the second one’s eyes.

“I will let the Highlord know,” the second one said before scurrying inside the room.

I waited patiently with the first guard, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second, and then Rufais’ voice could be heard shouting from inside, “Get inside, you cursed blasphemer!”

I smiled charmingly at the guard and sauntered inside while the one who had entered before me scurried back out, looking a bit harried. “Highlord! It’s just wonderful to see you.”

“I would kill you,” Rufais spat openly, “and dance upon your corpse.”

“Good to know. Unfortunately, then your city would burn, and I think you’re still at least slightly too sane to let that happen.”

“What do you want?” he spat. “Have you not taken enough from me already?”

“I’ve really taken shockingly little from you considering everything I’ve done for your city,” I pointed out mildly, struggling to keep my temper in check. “And I want you to stop persecuting my people– the Turyn, my team–”

“The Turyn are heretics,” Rufais growled, interrupting me, face turning even redder. “I will see them all burn; they will hang. Every. Last. One!”

“Including me?” I asked, the query not coming out quite as wryly as I had hoped, having a bite to it that I hadn’t intended to let slip.

“I will dance on your headless corpse,” he promised me, looking me right in the eyes– his own were bloodshot and gleaming. He was truly going mad.

“I think we’re done here,” I commented quietly, turning for the door. Maybe I could get Ennis to pull some strings for the Priest….

“You do not turn your back on me!” Rufais thundered, and I turned in time to see him unsteadily stand from his throne. “You and your team will be on the front lines,” he said, sounding suddenly sane for just long enough to give the decree before breaking down in disturbing giggling.

A shiver ran down my spine. “The front lines of what, Rufais? I’m not going to be in the city–”

“You will be,” Rufais promised me, eyes burning, “or I will kill them all. I will send my soldiers after the Turyn who fled and cut them all down where they stand. I will burn anyone who harbors them. Anyone who thinks to wear a mask in the Ildanach Houslends will die a horrible death, and it will be all on you.” He started giggling again. “I will make you suffer for what you have done to my family, to the House Ildanach.”

I bit back an objection to the pure lie; clearly reason wasn’t going to do me any good. “The front lines of what?” I repeated, quiet and restrained.

“Guards!” Rufais barked, and I startled a little from the suddenness of it.

The guards from outside rushed inside. “Highlord?”

“Bring to me an officiator,” Rufais demanded. “I want the Aeron negotiator executed, his servants flogged and released with no supplies to stumble their way back home.”

My eyes widened in shock, the guards doing the same, standing frozen for a moment.

“Go!” Rufais bellowed, and they rushed off.

“The Chantry itself will come after you for–” I started.

“They won’t. You and your team are going to fight them all, until they all die, or you do.”

It took me a moment to realize what he was saying in reality, between his phrasing and the fits of giggling. “You’re not sending anyone else. You’re telling me to fight a whole army.”

Rufais just continued to laugh. “Sitting on the plains until they come! You and your criminals who follow you! Unless they run.” He seemed delighted at the prospect of them abandoning me.

“I could run,” I pointed out, quiet.

“I will find Tirnaog and Aeron corpses littering the ground, or I will find yours,” Rufais said, meeting my eyes steadily. “Or the Turyn will burn.”

I wondered how long it would take them to get across the border to Morrigan, wondered how long it would take for Aeron and Tirnaog to attack. The attack would almost certainly be sooner; they had to already be gathering their troops. The assassination had failed, but their ambassador was still being held and it would seem to an outside viewer less and less likely by the minute that he would be released. They had provocation now, and Rufais had no proof of Aeron’s involvement in the assassination.

I wondered if there even was any proof, if it would do me any good at all to find it, but only momentarily. It wouldn’t matter; the army would arrive first, and either Ildanach would win in the most stunning display of military prowess the North had seen in some time, to stand against two Houses at once– one of which had a a full, undivided military force– or Ildanach would fall.

Another thought– I could let the city fall. Rufais couldn’t very well send men to kill the Turyn caravan if he was too busy choking on his own blood while his city burned around him.

But Hector wouldn’t run. Ennis wouldn’t run. Garret, the daughter I remembered he had, Avaline, Doria the seamstress, whose husband’s hand I had held as he died and promised to deliver his last words, they would all burn if the city fell. I couldn’t let that happen anymore than I could let him kill the Turyn.

I remembered my prayer to the Lady Death, asking that she not make my friends and people pay for my choices. This was, I realized, an answer. I nearly started laughing myself, the madness of the Highlord seemingly a bit contagious, as I realized Death was giving me what I had asked. No one had to die except me this way, and anyone who stood with me on those plains would do so of their own volition.

Thank you.

“Alright, fine,” I said, and Rufais narrowed his eyes at the smile on my lips as I conceded. “You want me on the front lines, I’ll be there.”

Before he could question my sudden capitulation, the door swung open with a frightened little scribe trailing behind an officiator, someone with the authority to speak for the Highlord and declare his edicts across the city.

“My lord?” the officiator asked, the scribe holding pen and paper in his hands, ready to take down the decree.

“The Aeron Ambassador will be executed at dawn, publicly,” Rufais declared. To their credit, the scribe only paused for a split second, and the officiator barely flinched. “Captain,” he spat the word and then smiled at me with too many teeth as he pronounced my name perfectly for the second time in his life, “Elyon Kazere will meet them near the border. The rest of the army will be prepared at the edge of the forest, just outside the city.”

This time, the officiator did pause. “You’re sending him alone?”

“Any not officially of the army who wish to join him in his death are free to do so,” Rufais said casually and then continued. “Oh, and the ambassadors servants are to be flogged and released with no supplies. Let them see if they can make it back to their masters.” He laughed at the idea.

“You’re a horrible person,” I said flatly, wondering how I had somehow failed to miss such a basic aspect of his character in the past. I’d thought him cruel, petty, vindictive, but somehow the word “evil” had never made its way to my mind. Perhaps I was just used to it looking a bit different.

Rufais scowled at me, but, really, he had nothing to say to me that he hadn’t already made perfectly clear, so in the end he just waited for the scribe to finish putting the decree into a workable format.

The man came over and held out the paper for his stamp with slightly shaking hands.

Rufais provided the signet.

“I will declare your orders in the street,” the officiator said quietly, bowed, and then both of them left.

“I assume I have until dawn to get myself into the battlefield then?”

“And not a moment longer,” Rufais spat at me.

“Mhm.” I turned to leave, though I paused on the way out and half-turned back to him. “Oh, not that I expect you to care, but if I don’t end up coming back, High Inquisitor Dahl and the Chantry have been kidnapping your citizens from the Outer Ring and killing them in some kind of way they would prefer to keep hidden, burning the corpses to destroy evidence and disposing of them in the swamp next to the graveyard. He recently arrested a Surgebinder and tried to pin it all on her, but it’s definitely Dahl. I’ll see you when we’re done winning the war for you.” I walked out, leaving him with his jaw satisfyingly hanging open at my casual declaration.

Maybe it would at least stick with him enough to have him spit it out at Dahl. If nothing else, I’d have paid money to see the expression on the High Inquisitor’s face if that did end up happening.

My desire to go and question him myself, though, had fallen. Ialdi knew, Rufais knew, Hector knew, my people knew– that would have to be enough to track him down assuming this went badly. Besides, I had better things to do with my last few hours in the city than talk to Dahl.

Despite my thoughts on the subject, it seemed Dahl disagreed, as I saw him standing in the midst of the central square, clearly waiting for me as I exited the Highlord’s Manor, Sryes at his side, though she looked uncomfortable. This was going to be great, I could already tell.

“I’m really not in the mood, Dahl,” I said flatly.

He smiled with that smug smile that was seemingly always on his face. “I’d imagine not. You’ve been sent to your death.”

“That’d make you pretty happy, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if you become a martyr in the process,” Dahl admitted openly, and, well, at least he wasn’t wasting my time. “Take my bargain. Rufais won’t be able to deny me. I’ll see to it that the weight of the Church is behind you, and this kind of thing will never happen again.”

“What about my behavior so far has indicated that I’m not willing to die for what I believe in?” I asked him, breathing a baffled laugh as I did.

Dahl’s eyes narrowed. “Lots of men think that until the death is staring them in the face.”

“I’m a Turyn convert, Dahl; I’ve known death was potentially staring me in the face for my decision since I put on the mask,” I retorted. “Besides, I’m not interested in going into business with a kidnapper and murderer.”

Dahl’s expression blanked and then he sighed. “I thought perhaps you’d be above listening to such absurd rumors, but I see I was–”

“Oh, like you were above taking the word of your twisted friend about me supposedly being the Bloody Knight of Akuma? Yes, we’re so far above rumors in these conversations,” I said mockingly. “Besides, these aren’t rumors! It’s an accusation, and I’m the one who started it, unlike you, who just stole other people’s work.”

Sryes’ eyes had narrowed slightly, and she was looking at both of our faces back and forth with a great deal of intensity.

I felt a bit of satisfaction that I hadn’t misjudged her. “Sryes,” I said, and both of them seemed caught off guard that I was addressing her directly, “I think you’re actually a good person, which is why I’m saying this to you directly. Get away from this. Distance yourself. I’m not going to claim the entire institution you serve is rotten to the core, although I kind of think it is– but he definitely is,” I jerked my head at Dahl and spoke over him when he tried to interrupt. “I know for a fact that he’s been involved in the kidnapping and murder of innocents from the Outer Ring of the City. It’s why he’s here in the first place. And he’s trying to pin it all on some Surgebinder who just got here from the West.”

“You have no evidence,” Dahl spat, face turning red.

“I have Erendi, except you don’t want anyone talking to her. Why is that, if you have nothing to hide?”

“She’s a dangerous purveyor of Order–”

“Oh, cause normal people are going to fall for those cults,” I scoffed. “I’m a dangerous purveyor of Turyn religion and you offered me a seat on your right hand. That’s not a very orthodox thing to do. And what was it that Bishop Friel was doing here, anyway, that got you so interested? A promotion certainly does seem to take a long time, unless you wanted to see demonstrations of his successful murders before you sent him on to get his murder certificate.”

“These are outrageous and absurd–”

“By the way, Sryes, did you notice that lumber tank outside of the Chantry? It’s been there on and off the entire time you’ve been here; you must’ve noticed. I think I saw you directing its off-loading once.”

“Do not answer,” Dahl spat.

Sryes nodded, eyes fixed on me now.

“I went through the whole building when I was there, and I’m sure you must’ve too. Notice what isn’t happening anywhere in the building?”

I saw the moment it clicked in her eyes.

“I was able to track the dates that the tank was shipped out, and it was far too frequent for them to have offloaded the amount of lumber normally used– you must have noticed how fast it went. We don’t have specific dates on the kidnappings due to the nature of the Outer Ring, but if you estimate that they happened between three and seven days before they were reported, each and every one of the shipment dates lines up with that timeline.”

“Circumstantial,” Dahl hissed through clenched teeth.

“Then why are you so angry with me right now? You had Ennis’ man killed because he caught your zealots when they were loading coffins with victims into the back of the tank scheduled to leave the next morning.”

Dahl’s eyes flashed, his hand strayed for his weapon, and I shifted my feet in response, waiting.

If he attacked me, I would kill him.

And then he took a deep breath and relaxed his posture, forcing a smile back on his lips, considerably more strained than before. “You have no evidence. And you’ll be dead before the suns set tomorrow.”

I smirked, enjoying the way his eye twitched in irritation. “We’ll see.” I looked back at Sryes. She wasn’t fully convinced.

“We’re leaving,” Dahl snapped at her, and she fell in line dutifully.

Maybe that’s why I felt the need to call out after them, “At least I’ll die helping people. What are you going to die for?”

Dahl spun on me with a snarl. “The Church!” He continued storming away.

Sryes also looked back at me, but she took a moment longer and I watched her eyes. Dahl hadn’t given the right answer, and we both knew it.

I inclined my head to Sryes, and she returned the gesture before falling back in step beside him on their way back into the Chantry.

I hoped she got out before he killed her, but unfortunately I didn’t have time to worry about it right now. I looked at the sky, at the suns moving slowly across it.

“Nine hours to live,” I mused at no one in particular. I grinned and left the courtyard.