“No!” Martin said, throwing a hasty shield around Tolomon before sprinting toward Nathaniel. He tried to pull the pain out of Tolomon as he ran, but there was too much, and he was too far away. Martin would have to touch his son in order to get the corruption out. He sensed Nathaniel was barely alive, but not for much longer. He tried to get to him, to save his son, but the devil got to his feet, standing between him and Nathaniel. Martin froze, fear slamming into his chest. The devil spat out a mouthful of blood before smiling, his lips and mouth red, blood dribbling down his chin, his eyes burning black. There were too many cuts on Indenuel’s body for him to still be standing, and his arm was broken, despite him still using it as though it wasn’t. The devil wasn’t deterred by pain. He began to walk toward Martin, leaving a trail of blood on the marble floor beneath him.
“‘The devil is not as powerful as he thinks he is,’” the devil said with a laugh. “Those were your words, weren’t they, Martin?”
Martin stood frozen in fear, sweat pouring down his forehead as he stared at the boy he knew and the devil who twisted him almost beyond recognition. Tolomon gasped but stumbled toward the devil. Martin came to his senses and threw a steadier shield at Tolomon, the only hope to get the devil distracted enough to get to his son.
The devil grabbed Martin’s throat. His shield around Tolomon dropped as he grabbed Indenuel’s hand, trying to pry it off. Tolomon struggled to his feet, working through the mountain of pain he most likely felt, taking labored steps.
“I will corrupt Indenuel.” The devil squeezed his fingers tighter around Martin’s throat, his airway completely blocked off. If Tolomon couldn’t fight the devil, they were all dead. Martin again threw a shield over the lumbering man and moved it through his body, pulling the corruption out. “I will become his master and drag him to Hell. I will feast on the dark memories of his life, and all the vile things he will do for me.” The devil lifted Martin off his feet, holding him in the air by his throat with one hand. Martin divided his power, the shield over Tolomon weakening as he kept himself alive. Tolomon pushed through, grabbing his stomach, his steps labored. “I will replay this day over and over for him in Hell, let him see how close I was to killing you. Then I will make him remember how cold and cruel you were for murdering him later. He will regret that you did not die today.” Martin didn’t know how long his body had stopped breathing. He pushed more healing power into himself to keep him alive, trying desperately to ignore the devil’s dark words. “When you finally die, I will drag you down to Hell too. I will show you how he felt when you sat there and watched him die. I will feast on the dark deeds you yourself have already done. I will break him, just like I have broken you. And every single one of you High Elders. I will see all of you in Hell.”
Tolomon grabbed the devil’s shoulder and spun him around, breaking his connection with Martin. Tolomon punched the devil in the face before catching Martin. He coughed, feeling the air coming back into his body, steadying himself before he ran straight for Nathaniel. He fell to his knees and pulled the ooze out of his son’s body. There was so much. Way too much.
The door of the Cathedral opened, and the squeak of Cristoval’s chair seemed to silence the devil. He spun around, glaring at Cristoval and Dalius. Tolomon took the opportunity to throw him to the marble ground and pin him again.
“Dalius! Indenuel needs to be exorcised now!” Fadrique shouted.
Dalius stopped, his mouth wide open as he took in the destruction of the worship hall. Martin grabbed Nathaniel now free of the corrupted pain, placing his fingers against his son’s temples, pumping him full of healing power. Willing his heart to beat stronger as the other cuts and bruises healed themselves.
“I will kill you all!” the devil shouted.
Dalius was still shocked, but Cristoval, with surprising strength Martin hadn’t seen in years, pulled himself out of his chair and took a step forward. “Garen!” Cristoval shouted, the age still evident in his voice. “Leave that boy’s body!”
The devil burst out laughing. “If it isn’t my old friend Cristoval! What authority do you think you have here? I killed your God, I will kill you next!”
Cristoval reached forward, like he was grabbing an imaginary apple from a tree. The devil started to cough.
“The Savior will beat you in the end,” Cristoval said.
The devil sneered. “I will make him suffer a life so horrible he will think Hell itself is a blessing!”
Cristoval closed his fist tighter, and the devil choked on the force. “Through the power of the Savior, and through the mercy he grants us daily, I order you out of the boy.”
The devil screamed, fighting against Tolomon’s powerful grip. Martin was afraid the devil would snap Indenuel in half. Cristoval used his other hand to grab at something only he could sense and began to pull. Dalius stood beside his grandfather, doing the same motion. A black haze poured out of Indenuel’s mouth, nose, and eyes.
“I will see you in Hell, Cristoval!” the devil shrieked.
“May the Savior look down on us in mercy,” Cristoval began to say. The devil screamed in terror. “May he fill us with God’s remaining light.” The devil threw himself against Tolomon, but he kept him pinned tightly to the ground. “May we know the Savior understands us.” The blackness pouring from his face was so much, Martin couldn’t see Indenuel. “And may it be a comfort in the night.”
Indenuel gasped as his eyes reverted to their green color.
“He’s back. Let him go,” Dalius said.
Tolomon let go of Indenuel who crawled hardly an inch before collapsing unconscious. Tolomon grabbed him and eased him on his back against the cold marble ground. The black mark disappeared, leaving the pale pink one exposed.
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Tolomon collapsed in a heap, taking deep breaths, clutching his stomach like the mortal man everyone often forgot he was. Dalius helped Cristoval back into his chair as Fadrique and Navir walked deeper into the Cathedral, surrounding Indenuel’s unconscious body. Nathaniel gasped, cracking an eye open. Martin sighed in relief as he hugged his son.
“I should have told you,” Tolomon said, still working through the pain. “I should have reported him as soon as I saw the mark.”
“Do not blame yourself, Tolomon.” Martin’s voice far more husky after the devil had tried to strangle him. Navir leaned down with his hands on his knees as he studied the mark on Indenuel’s chest. “He would have resented you for turning him in.”
Nathaniel sat up, holding his head. Martin helped ease his son into a pew, ordering him to rest before moving quickly to Tolomon. Tolomon stopped Martin’s hands before they touched his temple.
“Indenuel first. His body is badly broken. I can last a little longer,” Tolomon said between gasps.
Martin nodded, then turned to Indenuel. Nathaniel, who had heard the exchange, stood up and made his way over to Tolomon. Nathaniel wasn’t quite as skilled with getting corruption out of a person, but it would at least begin the process.
Martin knelt beside the unconscious boy. He placed his fingers against his temple, healing the stab wounds, the broken bones, the cuts, the bruises, the damaged organs, the corrupted pain in his body. It took a lot longer, but Martin finished, opening his eyes to see the boy still unconscious, but healed before he turned to Tolomon and Nathaniel. Nathaniel had his eyes closed, trying to get his shield through as much of the corrupted pain as he could. Martin touched Tolomon’s temples, feeding him healing power, helped the blood flow and repair the torn skin. He fused the broken bones and made sure the bruises disappeared and got the rest of the corruption out with Nathaniel’s help. Martin opened his eyes, and Tolomon nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
How this man was not similarly unconscious like Indenuel, he would never understand. “Both of you sit down on the pew now. Rest,” Martin said, helping the men to their feet, making sure they were situated. Nathaniel reached for him, which confused him, until he felt his throat healing and the other bruises returning to normal.
“Thank you, son.” Martin used the back of the pew they were sitting on to steady himself as he walked to the other High Elders assessing the damage to the Cathedral.
“Are you both alright?” Martin asked to Fadrique and Navir.
Fadrique nodded, and Navir looked at the broken windowpanes that once held the Divine Ages. “These were masterpieces. As old as the Cathedral itself.”
“They can be replaced, Navir,” Martin said. “The blueprints for their designs are in the library. It won’t be that hard.”
Navir nodded, a sadness still in his eyes.
“Why is the mark of the devil still on him?” Dalius asked, sounding far healthier than he had in the past week or so. “It should be gone now that the exorcism is complete.”
“Indenuel was the one who murdered Andres and Lola. He admitted using the corruptive powers right before the devil got him.”
Fadrique’s mouth dropped open. Navir let out a shaky breath, holding his forehead. “This is bad, Martin. There is an entire city in panic because of what they saw here. And they only saw it from the outside. What do we tell them?”
“Just tell them the truth,” Nathaniel said from where he sat beside Tolomon. The High Elders turned to look at him. Nathaniel struggled to stand, looking pale. “Tell everyone the truth that we are relying far too much on a nineteen-year-old boy to save us, and he’s too afraid to look weak in front of others because for once in his life he feels important. That’s why he hid this.” Nathaniel pointed to the mark on his chest.
“This isn’t up for a discussion with other nobles,” Navir said. “If we tell the city Indenuel got possessed by the devil himself, it could be detrimental to the morale of the troops, let alone the panic it would cause in the city.”
“To know that Indenuel made a mistake and paid dearly for it?” Nathaniel asked, holding on to the back of the pew as he took uncertain steps toward the High Elders. “He is a boy, pure and simple. Stop treating him like the entire world is on his shoulders, or he will break again.”
“The entire world is on his shoulders,” Dalius said. “There have been many things which made us realize the prophecy might not mean what we think, and he needs to win this war. Do you want to be under Kiam’s rule?”
“Not if Indenuel’s life is the price I must pay for it. Please, he’s barely two years older than my own son. He can’t be under this kind of pressure,” Nathaniel said.
Fadrique shook his head. “We can run the story with these marked individuals. Say Indenuel defeated them in the Cathedral on the Day of the Devil.”
“Perfect,” Navir said as though Nathaniel never gave any advice at all. Nathaniel shook his head, staring at Indenuel still unconscious on the ground.
“You two, not a word to anyone,” Fadrique said. “What you saw here was two marked individuals. Understand?”
Tolomon did nothing to agree, still sitting on the pew, his back toward everyone, almost pretending he wasn’t there. Nathaniel stared Fadrique down, the frown evident on his face. “You cannot hide something this big from the public.”
“Yes, we can,” Fadrique said with uncanny calmness.
Nathaniel’s face dropped before he turned to Martin. “Father, this isn’t right.”
Martin couldn’t meet Nathaniel’s gaze. Instead, he looked at the broken section of the Cathedral that would take months to fix. “We need to think about Indenuel,” Martin said quietly. “He wouldn’t want everyone to know he was possessed by the devil, nor his sins being shouted from the rooftops. He’s had a hard enough time adjusting. The only ones who need to know about this are us and Indenuel. And if anyone asks, the marked individuals are a good story to fall back on.”
Nathaniel kept a firm grip on the back of the pew. “You’re going to tell the world he fought off and conquered two marked individuals? Paint him again in a heroic light and have the world expect things of him he never did and simply hope he doesn’t crack again?”
“It’s better than telling the world what happened here,” Martin said.
Nathaniel frowned. “You don’t need to tell the world what happened here. Simply tell the world Indenuel was working through something and he’s figured it out. You are setting him up to fail. Can’t you see that?”
“It is not your decision to make, Nathaniel,” Navir said. “And you need to ask yourself if you are prepared to openly oppose the High Elders of God’s Holy Church like this.”
Nathaniel was grinding his teeth, his eyes narrow as he studied Navir. “I will keep it quiet,” he whispered. “But I am not afraid to let you four men know I do not agree with this decision.”
“So you would like to openly contend our ideas?” Navir asked.
“I will not spread gossip among my fellow nobles, if that’s what you’re asking. That is not in my nature.”
Navir nodded, satisfied.
“Tolomon?” Fadrique asked.
“Understood, High Elders,” Tolomon said quietly, still not looking at any of them.
Martin looked down at Indenuel, lying on the floor, looking like he was dead. “My study here in the Cathedral has a cot. Perhaps we can move him there?”
Tolomon climbed to his feet, his legs quivering but that didn’t stop him from leaning down to pick Indenuel up again, ready to follow Martin’s lead.
“I’m certain the devil’s sleep will keep Indenuel for a long while yet, but even still, he is not to leave this Cathedral until the Day of the Devil is over,” Navir said.