It is said that when a sister of the convent walks, she carries with her the love and guidance of Truth. But when a man of the frock walks, he carries with him Truth’s wrath.

Urden stood in the dark night waiting for a child who was significantly late. Just as had been the case a year ago, he’d made his way into the city under the cover of darkness. Anyway else would have drawn attention to his presence and the Seminary would’ve gotten news of his location almost immediately. It was the way with priests. Their presence was always the source of rumors. The last thing Urden wanted was Monsignor Crowl sending him messages, making inquiries and requests.

So he stood before the house of his choice, waiting for the child of his choice.

When the boy arrived, Urden watched him with a passive face. Despite his casual demeanor and his easy gaze, he watched the boy freeze. He would’ve liked to call it the shock of wonder or excitement but he had been a priest for far longer than anyone knew; he was no stranger to the effects the cassock had on most.

No, there was no shocked wonder here. Wonder and respect were left for the nuns and the sisters reading the scriptures of Truth and teaching the catechism of the Credo. Priests only had fear to instill in others. And others only had fear to give.

Urden watched the boy stand, eyes downturned, frozen in place. He had raven hair Urden knew would pale with time, blue eyes stared at the ground. The child was like a prey in the presence of a predator. Urden couldn’t blame him for his reaction.

He realized now that the child’s aunt had not told him of what was to happen. He frowned at the realization. There she goes making me the bad guy again.

This was not the first time Teneri had failed to properly explain a situation, leaving him to the task of explaining. But it would be the last, and solemnly so.

Fully aware of Teneri’s presence within the house—he could feel her seated on a rickety chair in the living room—Urden fixed his eyes on the boy.

“Come,” he said. It was a single word but he knew the boy would obey.

Children didn’t fear priests. But as they grow older they learn to understand the errors of their ways. By their eight year they begin to develop an understanding of what should be consciously feared and they were more than inclined to flee a priest’s presence. At older ages they learned a new type of fear, the type that taught them to obey. The child standing before Urden was old enough to possess the fear of obedience.

The child approached Urden with cautious, jerky steps. He seemed far too timid for his age. Urden didn’t hold it against him. Every child seems far too timid in front of a cassock.

Looking at the child, he fought the urge to smile in that old sense of nostalgia. He had hair the color of a raven’s feather with blue eyes too deep to be considered natural. He reminded Urden of the people of the Viltish tribes from long ago. A race of people long lost in the annals of history. They had communed with creatures humans deemed abominable. Elves, banshees, wolves that walked on two legs and possessed speech, creatures that moved without feet. In summary, the Scorned.

At some point in time, the current kingdom of Alduin had accused them of being Tainted, touched by the corruption of magic. They had deemed them worthy of being expunged from the surface of Vayla. To save their lives, the tribe had scattered to all corners of Vayla, seeking refuge wherever they could find it. To the kingdom of Alduin, they were Tainted and lost. A tribe now extinct.

Urden knew better.

It took a while but the child eventually stood before Urden. His eyes remained downcast, unable to meet Urden’s gaze. Urden smiled at the timidity. He could already imagine Teneri scolding him for scaring her beautiful ward.

“Alright then,” Urden said.

He turned his attention to the door of Teneri’s home and placed his hand on its handle. He bent it down and found it was locked.

“Ezril,” a voice called out from within. “Is that you?”

It was old and tired. It saddened Urden.

Ezril opened his mouth to answer but a look from Urden drew him to silence. Certain the boy would give no response, Urden returned his attention to the door.

“Ezril?” the voice repeated.

Urden’s stoic face slipped into an easy smile. He knew Teneri’s voice anywhere, despite how small and riddled with age it now was. It had been too long since he’d heard her voice. Far too long.

Considering she’d left him to scare the child, he figured a bit of punishment was in order. So he firmed his grip on the door handle and pushed inwards. The doorframe let out a soft groan and the lock broke. The door opened inwards to reveal an aged woman standing in the middle of a small room. The room was cast in an orange glow from the light from a lit candle that sat perfectly poised on a wooden table with three chairs placed around it.

The old woman stood awkwardly, her hands held out to her sides. She looked frail and weak. Standing straight seemed to drain her. She was a woman most comfortable when hunched. In a younger body, her position would’ve looked alert, maybe threatening on the edge of deadly. On the woman’s body, wrinkled with age, it looked awkward.

Time has done her no favors, Urden noted sadly, no stranger to its effects. Even the Hallowed, blessed at birth with bodies of superior strengths and physical abilities like him, were not immune to its effects. At least not in the beginning.

“Put your nin away, Ten,” Urden chided as he pushed the door open all the way. “The boy is present.”

There was a soft glow of yellow lightning crackling at her finger tips and they dulled into nonexistence at his words.

Teneri stood with disheveled hair, grey from time. Realizing she was under no threat, she let her body relax. It hunched as age demanded of it. Teneri scowled at him.

“Is there a reason you broke my door, Urden?” she asked, recognizing him despite how long it had been since they’d last seen. Despite how young he was now.

She looked so much like a grandmother scolding their child that Urden couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped from his lips. Anyone who saw her now would not believe she had held a strong aversion to children in her younger age, so much so that she’d vowed on her soul not to sire one.

“I’m waiting for an acceptable answer,” she said, impatient.

Her gaze was stern, yet her eyes kept darting past Urden. She kept glancing past him to watch the young boy who was yet to venture into the house.

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Urden opened his mouth to tell her exactly why he’d broken her door when she waved him to silence.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, knowing that cutting him off made him uncomfortable. Instead, her face softened as she added: “Oh Ezril, I’m sure it must’ve been difficult seeing this big bad man. Come on in and have a nice beverage while I have a talk with the priest.”

“I’m not big,” Urden objected.

Teneri snorted. “Well, you used to be.”

To his credit, the boy darted into the house without hesitation, rushing to Teneri’s side. Urden chuckled at the boy’s reaction. His obedience and love for Teneri certainly outweighed his fear of priests.

She certainly knows how to handle him, he thought even as he stared at the boy. He wondered just how much Viltish blood flowed in his veins. His eyes were as eerily blue as the clan’s had been, and they had once been known to be everywhere.

With Ezril finally by her side, Teneri returned her attention to Urden.

“It’s been a while,” she said.

“True,” Urden agreed, nodding. “Too many years. So will you be kind enough to explain why the boy was not informed of my coming?”

Teneri shrugged. “I forgot?”

Urden pinched the bridge of his nose where a scar ran horizontally across it. The scar was a gift from a close encounter with a vessel of something unimportant within the last year. He refused to believe Teneri had truly forgotten. He knew her well enough to know that she forgot nothing. The issue was that, true to character, she was the only person he knew who treated him like a child. He gave importance to anything and she chose specifically to ignore it. If it was important to him, it was unnecessary to her.

“Tell me that you at least prepared him for today,” he said with a sigh, closing the broken door behind him.

“Well, he spends his time in the underbelly so that should count for something.”

“And what does spending time in the underbelly have to do with any…” Urden let his words trail off. The underbelly was the poor side of this rundown city where the children learned to fend for themselves without parents or guidance. Such a place would’ve been good for the boy’s upbringing but Urden knew there was no way Teneri would allow the child live there. With no real argument in him, he figured it would have to suffice for now. Whatever the boy had learned would be the only knowledge he would have to begin. It wasn’t much, but whatever little means of self-sufficiency the child learnt was something he would have to do with.

Besides, the boy had run out of time. At ten, he was already on the threshold of awakening. If he was lucky, by fifteen he would be Hallowed. If not…

Urden cast the thought from his head. He refused to dwell on the if nots. The boy would either be Hallowed or he would not. There would be no contingency plans for what would come in the future.

Urden studied Teneri out of nothing but vague curiosity now. Her core was weak, a shadow of what it had once been in her prime. He could feel its golden glow. It was far dimmer than it had any reason to be. The feel of it saddened him as he watched an old friend grow older still.

“That was rude,” Teneri said suddenly. “First you break my door—Do you have any idea how much it will cost to fix that? Then you try to take a look at my privacy.”

The young boy stiffened at her words and Urden wasn’t sure if it was because a priest was looking at his aunt’s privacy or because of how she was speaking to a priest.

“Just for clarification,” Urden said, more for the boy’s understanding, “I have no interest in your privacy. However, I must ask, why aren’t you using a veil?”

Teneri waved aside his question as the old do. “It’s too much of a hassle these days,” she said. “Besides, there’s no one in this city worth any stones big enough to figure out what I’ll be hiding with a veil.”

“And the king’s guards?” Urden asked. “You have to know they’ll be passing by tonight.”

“And I’ll be an old woman in a house. If it comes to it, I’ll use a veil.”

Urden conceded to her words even if he knew they were lies. He’d seen her core—her soul—and he knew she was aware of the same thing he’d learned.

She wasn’t long for this world. Most of her nin was already being funneled into keeping herself alive a little longer. Using a veil all the time would shorten the amount of will and nin she needed.

He would’ve begged her to ascend the moment he was done with his business here but knew that she would not. There was no one who knew Teneri that didn’t know she had no interest in ascending. According to her, she had been born to this world and she was more than willing to die in it.

Besides, judging by the state of her core, she didn’t even have the power required to ascend. She had been determined to live and die here and had made certain of it. As much as he respected her for the decision, Urden couldn’t discard the sadness of knowing it was only a matter of time before he would never be able to see her again.

Teneri’s shoulders shook with a sudden bout of chuckles.

“What’s with that horrendous look on your face?” she asked, her chuckles slipping into laughter. “I’m old Urden, not dead. And you look like I’ve already moved on.”

The boy, Ezril, stiffened at the comment and Teneri reached a hand out to rub his shoulder reassuringly. However, she gave him no words of reassurance.

“You think that’s bad?” she asked him with a soft smile.

The boy nodded hesitantly.

“Well,” she continued, “it really isn’t. I’ve lived a long and full life, and I still have a few more years left in me. You on the other hand, are just starting. You’ll have to go through life meeting and losing people. You’ll enjoy the beauty of life, no doubt, but you’ll also have to suffer its ugliness. And I certainly don’t envy you for what’s about to happen next.”

“Don’t scare the boy,” Urden chided her. “He’s just looking out for an old woman.”

“Not scaring him,” Teneri corrected. “Just giving him a hint.”

“And I’m sure he already has enough hints as it is. He just got back home and found a man in a cassock waiting for him. I doubt there are any boys his age who don’t know what that means.”

“Well, you don’t know my Ezril,” Teneri argued. “He’s a sweet and innocent boy. For all you know he could think you’re just here to help out an old lady. You know, clean around the house, buy the groceries.”

Urden cocked a sarcastic brow at her. “In the middle of the night?”

Teneri shrugged. “It could happen.”

“It could not.”

“It could—”

“Has anyone made you an offer?” Urden asked, cutting Teneri off. The tone of his voice was serious. It let her know that the jokes had come to an end. She was old now, and he needed to know the answer.

Teneri frowned, not at being cut off but at the question. Urden knew she had no issues with the question. There was no way she hadn’t seen it coming. Her issue was with the boy being present for the question.

“When I die,” she said slowly, most certainly for the sake of the boy, “Vayla will have my body, and Truth my soul.”

Urden nodded at that. A political answer in the presence of the child. It seemed he would have to ask the question again when the child was in the kitchen making a beverage for himself. Only then would he get the truth.

“Besides,” Teneri went on with a smirk. “We can’t all have the favor of the Immortal.”

Urden shook his head at her before darting a glance at the child.

Knowing what was expected, Teneri turned her attention to Ezril.

“Why don’t you go into the kitchen and get yourself something to drink,” she told him.

Ezril nodded. He turned away, stopped, then turned back to her.

“Can I have something to eat, too?” he asked politely.

“Of course, Ezril. Sherices’ mother came in with some freshly baked bread a few hours ago and I was just too stuffed to have a taste of it. You can have some if you want. It’s beside the kettle, under the pink bowl.”

Ezril nodded, smiling for the first time since Urden had seen him before darting into a door on one side of the room.

“The boy does everything like his father,” Teneri told Urden when Ezril was gone. “He’ll take his time making something to drink, then spend another amount of time eating. He’ll be gone forever, so we might as well have a seat.”

Urden waited until Teneri had chosen a seat of her choice at the table before joining her on the opposite side.

“I really hate it when you treat me like an old woman,” she complained.

“I know not what you speak of,” Urden returned. “It is only gentlemanly to let the lady sit first.”

Teneri scoffed. “Like you know the first thing about being a gentle man. How old are you now even; thirty-eight? Forty-two?”

“Thirty-six,” Urden answered.

“Wow,” Teneri said, amused. “You came back quickly. How’d you manage that with the Immortal?”

“I didn’t. I just made contingencies so I could come back faster. But I can see I missed a lot.”

“Well, with the grey hair, you don’t look a day over forty,” Teneri said. “Although I don’t see why you’re aging so quickly. Normally you should look thirty at this age. I take it your awakening at thirty was quite the bumpy ride.”

“And you don’t look a day over two hundred,” Urden said, ignoring the rest of her questions. Then his expression slipped into something austere and Teneri sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “Ask again and I promise to be honest this time.”

Urden watched her, gauging her words. She wasn’t one to lie but it had been far too many years since he’d last seen her, and time changed people.

Convincing himself that she was still the same Hallowed he knew, he asked the question he wanted an answer to.

“Which of the gods have made an offer for your soul when you die?”