Alarien – the woman Inquisitor Victor had brought him to – finally allowed her mana to disappear. Her healing was gentle and soothing, unlike that of Princess Aoife.

“And you don’t remember anything else?” She asked as Ash buttoned his shirt.

He shook his head. He had told her some things. Things he felt he mustn’t share before, he now felt comfortable talking about. But not everything. Not the dreams he had, and certainly not the pendant hanging around his neck.

“I see…” Her voice was but a whisper as she paced the room, occasionally shooting glances at the door. She probably hoped the inquisitor would come back soon. Whenever her gaze turned to him, however, it was filled with pity. “Try and get some rest.” She suggested a short while later. “It seems like Victor will take a while.”

Ash nodded, and leaned back on the couch where he was seated. He let his gaze wander around the ceiling. For some reason, he felt like if he closed his eyes now, he would see all those nightmares he didn’t get for the last couple of nights. Images of dead bodies piled on the floor surfaced in his mind. The scent of blood, and the metallic taste in the air was still fresh in his mind.

He groaned, and bent forward, covering his mouth with his hand. He instinctively reached for the pendant beneath his shirt and grasped it over the cloth. Were these images resurfacing in his mind because he had so freely talked about them? Or was this just a delayed reaction on his part to everything that happened?

“Are you alright?” He heard Alarien’s voice from afar.

He nodded, trying to suppress the memories that rapidly resurfaced. His heart raced, and his lungs longed for more air, for faster breaths. He refused to comply, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths. His racing heart began to calm, and the burning in his lungs slowly passed.

“I’m ok.” He lied and leaned back on the couch once more.

It was quite a while later when someone knocked on the door.

“Come,” Alarien’s voice rang, and the door swung open immediately. Inquisitor Victor stepped inside, with the Oracle in tow. While the inquisitor approached Alarien to quietly whisper something, the Oracle ignored them both and walked up to Ash.

“We meet again, Ash Morgan,” Her voice was calm, serene. It reminded Ash of a calm river, flowing through the lands. Not that he had seen such a river before. “I wish we would have met under better circumstances.”

Ash nodded, unsure of what to say.

“I know your memories of the Light are rather… painful, but I’m afraid I must see whether you have been touched by Soul Magic once more.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A shiver ran down Ash’s spine as those memories rapidly resurfaced. Painful was an understatement, it felt like she was skinning him alive.

“Your hand, please.” She extended her own hand.

Ash hesitated. He could feel the cold pendant touch his skin beneath his shirt. It was so cold, as if it had been soaked in an icy river. He couldn’t help but feel like it was trying to warn him against this, not that it needed to.

He knew how much dark mana had flowed into the sarcophagus. He knew the Oracle’s spell would likely kill him. He wasn’t ‘pure’, or ‘untainted’ anymore. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.

The Oracle waited patiently, though her expression hardened somewhat. “I know you’re frightened-“

Her words were cut short as another knock on the door sounded, startling all four of them in the room. The Oracle straightened her back and turned her gaze to the door while Alarien walked to the door and opened it.

Immediately she drew a sharp breath and curtsied. “Your Highness,” She exclaimed. The Oracle scowled, while Inquisitor Victor was quick to bow deeply.

Ash felt the man’s presence before he saw him. The Crown Prince Cedric Par-Ilathar radiated with power and authority as he walked past Alarien, and only spared the inquisitor a single glance. His golden gaze settled on the Oracle.

As soon as he realised who it was, Ash knelt, keeping his eyes on the floor. His heart raced again as he felt the oppressive presence move closer.

“Oracle,” He calmly spoke.

“Your Highness,” She replied, still standing straight. She spoke as if she spoke to her equal, or lesser. “While it is a pleasure to see you, I’m afraid I’m somewhat busy at the moment.” She gestured at Ash. “This child has suffered through a great deal and may be infected with Soul Magic. I must conduct the cleansing ritual for his safety, and the safety of our people.”

“I’m well aware of the current situation,” The Prince raised his chin. “The cleansing ritual is likely to be lethal, I can see it in your eyes. You look at him with pity, as if he is a lamb to be slaughtered.”

The Inquisitor drew a sharp breath. “What?” His whisper was barely audible.

Ash felt his heart sink. A lamb to be slaughtered? A lethal ritual? He hadn’t been brought here just to be murdered under the guise of ‘cleansing’. He hadn’t survived all that just to die here, where he was promised safety and security.

An emotion rose from within. Not like before, when he wasn’t even sure if it belonged to him. This time, he felt it. Rage. Anger. Hurt. He clenched his chin in an attempt to keep his expression neutral. He wasn’t going to die here. He refused.

“None of us can be certain how the ritual will conclude,” The Oracle curtly replied. “We have no time to waste, your highness, so if you would excuse us…?” She shot a meaningful glance at the door.

“You will not conduct the ritual.” The Prince stated. “He is the only living, sane witness to the events that took place in the Burial Grounds. Events that are still shrouded in mystery. His life can’t be risked in the name of purification.” His gaze remained fixed on the Oracle as he defied her. “I have personally taken over the investigation into the matter, your gaze is needed more elsewhere.” This time, it was him who shot a meaningful glance to the door.

The Oracle pressed her lips together. “Anyone whose mana pool has been diluted by Soul Magic is bound to become like the Apostle. Insanity will soon set in, followed by a loss of self. And it will spread throughout our nation like a wildfire.” She hissed, gesturing widely towards the windows overlooking the northern side of Bhaile-Morn. “It is not a risk I am willing to take, your highness.”

“It’s not your choice to make, Oracle.” The prince stated before turning his gaze to Ash. “Come,” He turned around, then paused to make sure Ash was following. As they felt the room, he hesitated for a split second. “Inquisitor, come and see me tomorrow. We have much to discuss.”

As the door closed behind them, Ash caught a glimpse of Inquisitor Victor’s face. Pale as a sheet of paper, he simply nodded.

Was it fear that he saw? Or regret?