The Church of Renere was and is one of the most peaceful, yet powerful following ever created. Founded in the mainland during the dark ages, it quickly took over the hearts of people using naught but an open-minded and pragmatic approach, unlike the Church of Turin, which had been infamous for gaining most of their followers through coin and blackmail. Furthermore, each of its archpriests was observed to hold some mystical power, said to be gifted from God himself. This blatant show of the supernatural only strengthened the Church’s hold over the majority. The archpriests thankfully avoided anything related to politics or war, though the 27th archpriest, widely known for his control and kinship with the great red dragon known as Talon, was murdered by the criminal group known only as the bloodborn during his 3-year long pilgrimage in the city of Valeris in the western isles. His death, though leaving a void in the hearts of many followers, only helped further his beliefs. The 28th archpriest took over his seat a month later, in the year 895.

Sam and Zen hurried through the streets, Selicia carried haphazardly in their arms. She was still bleeding from her forehead. Sam glanced at Zen, surprised at his stamina. The hit Zen had suffered had definitely broken a few ribs, but it didn’t seem to a affect him at all. He also wondered why David hadn’t chased after them, suspecting that the strength he possessed gave him a handicap of some kind. All he knew that the power he had used, or the immense physical strength David had possessed, came with a price. Sam felt weak and wanted to give up, but he kept moving towards the inn.

It was a horrible idea. Their pursuers could detect their location somehow, and leading them to the inn would only endanger Charles and the people there. But Zen had persuaded Sam, telling him it was the right thing to do, and Sam couldn’t refuse. Not after knowing that there were a few rules the old Zenaris had given the new one, even if he had no idea what he was going through yet.

Zen had different things on his mind. He wanted to go back, before he changed. He also didn’t want to die, and didn’t want to let anyone else die. That much he had promised himself while he was imprisoned. But he didn’t see any possibility of even only him surviving unless he seeked out help at the inn. The castle was too far away, especially in the condition they were in now. He was sure Charles was hiding something deep, and he did know about these powers. He was their last(or only) hope now.

They rushed to a stop as they broke into knell street. Eyes bore into them from everywhere as they scampered towards the inn. Sam pushed open the door; both of them carefully laid Selicia on the floor, and then Sam dropped to the floor recklessly. Zen sat on a chair nearby. Not one of the two took note of the two already inside.

The old man sitting next to Charles chuckled. “Is that the boy?” he asked, eyes pointing towards Sam. Charles shook his head and walked over to them, trying to check for wounds. The old man got up, his wrinkled face grinning, at least until he saw the the faint traces blood and dust on their clothes.

“It was the bloodborn,” said Sam, his back still on the floor, “they’re after her.”

“And us,” added Zen, “Sam, what the hell did you do there?”

“Calm down, and tell me everything that happened,” said Charles, in a voice that suggested that he was the one trying his hardest to be calm.

And so Zen told him everything that had happened, word to word, as quickly as he could.

“I don’t know how I did what I did, but-” said Sam.

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“Was it about that dream you told me?” asked Charles.

Sam bit his tongue; he had told Charles he had a dream about gaining power, in hope that he would finally gleam some more information from Charles about Zen’s condition and Charles’ past. He stuttered a bit, trying to say something.

“That was all horsecrap, wasn’t it? Only an idiot would have believed that tale,” said the old man, leaning near Zen. His face was twisted with concentration. “I can help you two, but you’ll owe me greatly for it.”

Zen nodded, as did Sam. Something in the stranger’s words made them feel like he could really help.

“They’ve both bargained for it,” noted the old man, looking at Charles. Charles had a grim expression on his face as he nodded. The old man made a gesture and pushed with the flat of his hand towards Selicia, and she glowed. He turned towards Zen then. His eyes bore deep into Zen.

“You’ve hurt a lot more than those two, and your head...” The old man sighed. “He isn’t using his talent, but he’s still suffering from it. He did this to himself, whether he knows it or not,” said the old man, talking to Charles.

his hand started moving in intricate patterns, “I need your permission before I do this.”

“Do it,” said Zen, without hesitation. He knew was broken, if not how, and he wanted to be fixed.

The man pushed with his palm again, but this time hit Zen in the chest as white light exploded from him. It encircled him, like particles in the air, before streaming right back into him.

Zenaris jerked forward, then caught himself against a table. He gasped for air, and the old man pulled his hood over his face, covering it completely.

“Sorry,” Zenaris whispered, though only the old man heard it.

“We all are,” he replied slowly. The old man looked around, glancing at everybody. He waved at Charles and took his leave, sighing. He didn’t think the situation was half as dire as it was until he got to that blue-eyed boy.

“You thought it was a good idea to come here? What if they followed you?” said Charles, his voice louder than they had ever heard.

“Thanks,” said Zenaris, standing up, “for everything.” His voice carried heavy regret and sincerity; He looked different. His posture had changed, and so had the way he talked. His eyes were strained, trying to hold back something. He avoided Sam’s and Charles’ eyes as he stepped out of the inn, running in the direction they came from.

“I’m going too,” said Sam, getting up and leaving just as Zenaris did.

Charles just sat there, unsure of what to do. He turned his head towards the girl.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

Selicia opened her eyes, and lifted herself to her feet. She stared at him, shrugging; She looked tense and ready to run away, just like a squirrel. A few moments passed, and she resigned to a seat, giving up.

“Tell me about that magic they used,” she said.

Charles had thought the girl was odd. He sighed.

“Nobody knows much about them,” he started, willing to vent by explaining, “and they have many names. Some men are born with these powers, but most are given them at seemingly erratic times. And most give pay a price when they use their powers.”

He paced around the room, and she stayed still in her seat, listening.

“I call the ones with the price malheur, but most call them talents.”

Charles thought the name he made had the most sense to it, and was about to continue on a long lecture about noted talents in history.

“I couldn’t care less. It isn't as interesting as I thought, and all I understand is that there is nothing worth understanding. We’re wasting time here while the both of them put themselves in danger,” she said, he voice awfully commanding. Charles was left slack-jawed, but he couldn’t help but think that she was right.

“It’s their issue now. I have no job he-”

“If helping your friends in their time of need isn’t your job, then what is?” she said, surprising even herself with that line.

Charles sighed for the millionth time today. He just couldn't stay still and let them throw their lives away.

“Sure. Why the fuck not,” he said, grabbing his coat.