The Inquisitor turned to Exill while gesturing to the seated woman in front of them. “This is Oracle Alya, you may address her as your eminence. She will be the final judge of the World’s Blessing and approve its entry into Canon. You may kneel before her.”

Exill felt like someone walked over his grave, stumbling as he came to kneel in front of the Oracle. Even with the blindfold, her face unerringly smiled towards him. Her voice rang clear and mellow.

“So you are the Witchdoctor. I’ve heard a lot about you… you have been causing a lot of trouble to some very powerful people… but I must thank you for what you have done.”

Exill licked his lips while staring at the thread of fate connecting them. It was just like the one he had seen on Envy, though it had disappeared when she became his slave. “I thank your Eminence for her kind words.” He managed to blurt out.

The Oracle turned her face towards Deroch, she bit her lip before making the request. “Could you excuse us for just a moment? I would like to share a few words with the Witchdoctor privately.”

The Inquisitor shook his head impassively while replying in an even tone. “I’m sorry your Eminence. He is an acclaimed warrior capable of taking down a knight. I cannot leave the two of you alone.” As her designated protector, he had no choice on the matter.

A moue of discontent marred her heavenly features as the Oracle silently accepted his words. Once again her wishes had been made irrelevant, and she lamented the blindness caused by her exposure to Fate’s weave, rendering her so helpless. However the Inquisitor was not done, he pressured her further.

“My report has been submitted, I beg your Eminence to cast final judgement on his blessing.” Deroch’s steely eyes flickered down towards the kneeling man, his hand resting firmly on the shoulder like a restraining vise.

Alya turned to Exill, a hesitant expression on her perfect face. Her assistant had read out the report this morning and understood the suspicion coating the Inquisitor’s weathered voice.

A lot of the evidence was circumstantial such as the timing and location of World Tremors, but taken as a whole it warranted further study. She knew the truth of course; the World had whispered it long ago.

She gripped the hem of her robe, feeling indecision on how her actions would influence the Weave. The oft repeated saying that Oracles were certain of the future held true. But in her experience, the journey mattered as much as the end result, and even she was not all knowing.

In the end, she went against her better judgement and pronounced words that contained an indescribable power of their own.

“He has been blessed by the Spirit of the World, and his deeds shall be entered into Canon.”

Exill was physically rocked by the power in her words, and would have fallen if he wasn’t being gripped by the Inquisitor. Turning his questioning face up to the blind woman, he mouthed the burning question in his mind.

‘Why?’

But the Oracle enigmatically smiled down at him, tightly grasping the secret between them.

“He may now pray before the Eld Tree.”

Inquisitor Deroch roughly dragged Exill to his feet. There was a strange reluctance on his face as he led the Witchdoctor to kneel in front of the trunk of the World Spirit. “You may express your gratitude, and make it quick.”

Exill knelt in the cool shade of the tree for what felt like minutes, still stunned by what had happened. He eventually came to his senses and formulated a brief prayer. ‘I thank the Spirit and promise to use this opportunity to lead a good life.’ He prayed feebly, showing the markings of a reformed man.

[Ping!]

A deep resonance was felt in the core of his being. He stood up on shaky legs and nodded to the Inquisitor, not trusting his voice.

Deroch shadowed him from behind all the way to the exit. A sibilant whisper that was more like a threat drifted over to him, “I don’t know what you did to manipulate the Oracle, but this isn’t the end, Witchdoctor.”

Exill glanced back one last time before leaving the courtyard, the Oracle continuing to watch him from her seat, her face quietly composed. He finally allowed a sigh of relief when the altar boy led him out of the church.

***

Tsarra embraced him tightly when he staggered into the Clinic. The close call with death and the sleepless night had finally caught up with him. In spite of his drooping eyelids, he led the Dwarf to the treatment room where he checked on her amputated wrist, noting the remarkable reduction in swelling.

“You didn’t tell Envy anything about what happened this morning, right?” He asked somewhat casually while applying fresh poultice.

“No, I didn’t see her. Is everything alright?”

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“Yeah, it was nothing, all just a big misunderstanding. Anyway, I’m going to go rest for a bit so call me if there are any patients you can’t handle.” He was about to close the door when Tsarra hesitantly called out.

“Does that mean I can stay here?”

Exill turned tiredly to face her, confusion painted across his weary face, ‘What is she talking about?’ he wondered. Then, he remembered she was free, no longer bound to him. The countless warnings from strangers about his intent to free Envy flashed through his head. Strangely, he had never felt wary about freeing Tsarra.

“I need help to run the Clinic…” he began, but stopped, afraid of pressuring the free woman. Their notarized contract guaranteed freedom in exchange for keeping his secrets, nothing more, and it was still in effect. His intent must have been felt because Tsarra immediately embraced him in gratitude. He awkwardly patted her back until she peeled away and continued to work.

Closing the door to the treatment room, he wearily climbed the stairs, into the relative comfort of his room. He heaved a sigh of relief when his head hit the goose down pillow.

It was safe… for now. A few carefully placed questions on the way back revealed that Canonization offered minor protections to the blessed individual, alongside a place in the Church hierarchy. Although his blessing hadn’t officially been finalized, the wheels had been set in motion the moment the Oracle made the declaration.

The Inquisitor would have to nullify the appointment to bring any charges against him, but that was a feeble defence against such a determined opponent.

‘I need to leave Ark as soon as possible. The Oracle knows my blessing is a lie, and the Inquisitor suspects this as well. Why she covered for me – I do not know, but it is wishful thinking to hope this house of cards will never fall.’

The only threads tying him here in the city was Envy, and the friends he had made along the way. He dozed off while making plans to earn a lot of money to fund his transition away from Ark, far away from the eyes of the Inquisition.

Exill woke up in the evening to a refreshing touch on his forehead. He opened his eyes to find a strikingly beautiful woman withdrawing her hand while seated next to him on the bed. If it was anyone else, they might have relished the thought of being woken in such a fashion, but he knew better than to expect anything else from the dispassionate vampire.

“Have we run out of blood potions already?”

“No, there are two left.” She pursed her lips a little.

Exill blinked blearily as his brain slowly booted up. For a brief moment he suspected the Vampire had discovered that Tsarra was free and was here to kill him. Then he accepted the more reasonable theory that she was here to drink blood.

They had spent so much time together that he was able to interpret her little tells. Though she hid her emotions well, there was no hiding the little squirms of pleasure she was prone to while feeding. It was obvious she didn’t like the blood potions.

Feeling guilty about freeing Tsarra, he rolled up his sleeve and invited her to lay beside him.

Envy stared at him for a moment, hesitating slightly. She had come to check on him after he left early in the morning without a word. Prior to entering his room, the Witchdoctor had been mumbling in his sleep, as if in a nightmare. She was familiar with nightmares and considered it a mercy to wake others from it.

The Vampire swept her scarlet hair back and lay on his familiar arm, eventually wrapping her soft lips around his Labyrinth scarred forearm.

“Did you have a good haul today?”

“Mn.”

“Did Iris drop by again in the morning?”

Envy poked him warningly in the side with an elbow.

He continued to pester her with mundane questions while she fed. Fully aware she couldn’t answer, and that it mildly annoyed her but drew comfort from the ritual. It provided a measure of insight why dentists were so talkative to their patients.

He summoned his Card to scroll through the long list of available jobs. There were more than thirty of them at this point and he found himself ignoring those that had little utility, for example he had gained Gambler prior to his duel with Sir Eumol.

Job Gambler Level 1 Description Outcast- Tier I Active Skill [Intuit Odds] estimate the chance of success for any given action with increasing accuracy on higher levels.

More interesting was the job he had earned while praying to the Eld Tree.

Job Priest Level 1 Description Magic - Tier I Passive Buff Bonus strength to blessings (scales with level)

He knew paupers would often go to church instead of healers for their benedictions. These blessings were purported to increase the rate of natural healing, though he didn’t know how it compared to mana based healing. Priests were also asked to dispel curses both perceived and otherwise from Labyrinth delvers and general populace alike.

‘I should study what kind of magic they use because it sounds useful.’

His plans to study in the Library had been suspended due to lack of time and funds – which should improve once Tsarra grasped more of the basics. Speaking of which, now that he had the manufacturing facilities, he really wanted to flex some engineering muscles. It was fate and convenience that drove him to become a healer, but his true expertise lay elsewhere.

However, Exill doubted the situation would improve anytime soon. There were too many threats, responsibilities, and commitments before he could enjoy luxuries such as inventing. While he let out a frustrated sigh, Envy finished feeding and sat up in quiet satisfaction.

Exill followed her into the living room where Tsarra was setting the table with an assortment of bread and cheese. Seeing her struggle to slice the bread with one hand, he rushed in to help.

“I’ll slice that for you. Can you grab an extra plate for me? I’m also very hungry.”

They all sat together at the small table, while Envy oiled the new leather greaves she had bought to replace the scrap leather armour. Exill felt a rare moment of happiness as he studied the leather workmanship of her gear, all the while cutting more bread and cheese for Tsarra to enjoy.

He wished this moment would last before he was forced to leave.