The sun woke Indenuel up, as it always had when he lived in Mountain Pass. He got up on his elbows, looking down to see a blanket around him. Tolomon stood, leaning against a tree not that far, arms folded, watching him.

“How long have I been asleep?” Indenuel asked.

“Just a day. Considering how tough of a time Navir had waking you up, I figured you needed more rest.”

Indenuel stood up. “The battle? The army? Where are they? Have I-”

“You honestly thought I was going to wake you to fight a battle? After all that happened yesterday?”

He tried not to react, but also didn’t want to remain on the subject. “Has the army moved?”

“Yes. Closer to us, but they have moved. If we take it slow, and we will take it slow, we’ll be there by nightfall.”

Tolomon was still leaning against a tree as the sky began to brighten. Indenuel looked around, wondering if he needed to gather anything up to get going. “High Elder Navir has already sent another Graduate with another day’s worth of supplies. We have not fallen behind schedule, it’s just more certain that the army is going to be bigger than we anticipated.”

Indenuel nodded, trying to look like he hadn’t had a complete breakdown yesterday. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

Tolomon studied him before grabbing one of the bags behind the tree and ruffling through it. Indenuel touched his chest, feeling exactly where the mark was, the tips of his fingers turning cold the moment they brushed against it, even with his shirt on. A different shirt than he was wearing the day before. He forgot Tolomon had cut it open to make sure he hadn’t sold his soul. His hands trembled at the memory, and he closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts aside. Trying not to remember the vision the devil had given him.

Tolomon pressed a cloth into his hands, which made him open his eyes. It was another small package of bread and cheese. “There’s plenty more, so eat as much as you need.” Indenuel looked down at his breakfast. He still had a hearty appetite. Despite everything, he was starving. He hadn’t felt this hungry in a long time. He fell back onto old habits, eating too much to feel full again, knowing he would last just a little longer as long as there was enough food in his belly.

Indenuel finished, leaning against a tree, gripping the branch as he steadied himself. He was doing everything in his power not to cry, which meant he was keeping his mind empty. Not letting it wander. Not thinking about anything.

Tolomon approached, waiting. Indenuel took a few more steadying breaths before he met his friend’s gaze. “You don’t look nearly as bad as yesterday, but you still look like shit.”

“I can always count on you to be honest,” Indenuel mumbled.

“And I need you to be honest with me. How close were you to selling your soul to the devil yesterday?” Tolomon asked.

“It never came up. I swear. He… he was…” Indenuel tore his gaze away. “He completely shattered my faith in the Savior. And I’m afraid to say it worked. I’m starting to realize now that all of us who were pro…” Indenuel hesitated, knowing Tolomon didn’t know about the Divine Ages. “Me, the Savior, we’re not the stained-glass depictions everyone grew up learning about. We’re human. He was trying to get me to follow him, but he never asked me for my soul.”

Tolomon rubbed his chin, looking troubled. “I believe you.” He said nothing more as he mounted his horse. Indenuel followed, situating himself on the saddle. Tolomon placed an arm on his shoulder, keeping Indenuel from falling over the other side as he grabbed the saddle, straightening. His hand trembled as he rubbed his forehead before nodding. He followed next to Tolomon as they took the journey as slowly as promised.

“That’s it? No lecture? No telling me I’m an idiot? No asking me to return to Santollia City?” Indenuel asked.

“Do you want to go back?”

Indenuel paused long enough that Tolomon stopped his horse. Indenuel stopped his as Tolomon studied his face. Indenuel looked away, saying nothing, urging his horse forward again. He couldn’t go back. He needed to kill the army before they killed his friends.

Tolomon caught up with Indenuel. “You’ve already jumped off the cliff, my friend. I’m making sure you land in big enough pieces that I can put you together again once this is over.”

***

Martin had his head in his hands, sitting in his study at the cathedral. He didn’t go home. He couldn’t look at Inessa, knowing who she was to him now. He was honestly afraid he’d vomit again. Despite the dawn light trickling in, Martin’s mind had not calmed down.

There was a knock on his door, and Martin quickly swiped at his cheeks to make sure no tears were there before clearing his throat. “Come in.”

Navir walked in, and Martin’s heartrate spiked. He looked away, busying himself with whatever was on his desk. Navir walked in before placing a bag of powder on his desk. “The guards said you had a nervous fit.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Martin said.

“Oh, it’s liable to happen. We are at the tail end of a war, after all.” Martin said nothing, taking the bag of powder. “For calming tea. Specifically for nausea. The most powerful I could make it.”

This did not comfort him at all. Martin was still trying to sort out what he should do with this new information about Inessa, and he couldn’t make any hasty decisions, even though he wanted that girl as far away from him as possible. But not so far that she’s thrown back into Fadrique’s hands.

“Is there anything you’d like to talk about? To help your nerves? You don’t look so good, old friend,” Navir said.

No. There was nothing he wanted to discuss with Navir right now. But if he didn’t guide this conversation, he’d accidentally reveal something, and Inessa’s life was literally at stake here.

“I read the book,” Martin said, finding the conversation he needed. “Three sentences about corrupted individuals, but I found nothing pertinent to my situation.”

Navir cocked his head to one side, a face of concern that Martin couldn’t bring himself to believe. “Sorry, what?”

“The Ancient Ways by Erco the Philosopher. There is nothing there about my situation,” Martin said.

Navir frowned. “End of the book? Last few chapters?”

“Nothing,” Martin said.

Navir looked surprised and stood up. “I could have sworn…” He left the study, and Martin got up to follow. He was terrified that, for whatever reason, Navir would find out Inessa’s heritage while in the library. Despite them never looking at it unless it was the third month of the year, or if they needed to check someone’s parentage, the book was barely opened. Not only that, but Inessa’s mother used a fake name. There is no way Navir could know this information. It still didn’t calm his pounding heart as they walked down the spiral staircase to the basement. Navir led the way, entering the library, and Martin purposefully did not look at the bookshelf that held that damning book.

Navir pulled out The Ancient Ways, placing it on the reading podium before flipping through the pages toward the end. He kept his finger off the pages, but still ran them down before touching the paragraph carefully.

“‘In ancient times, there would often be battles between devil corrupted individuals and those gifted with God’s power. If the one with God’s gift does not strengthen his mind against the devil, it had been known that the devil himself could take away the power from such an individual. The devil keeps it as his, unless the one blessed by God enters combat again with the same corrupted individual and wins,’” Navir read, nodding. “I guess that is three sentences, but I’m quite sure Erco the Philosopher talked more about the corrupted individuals than this.”

Martin took the book and checked the cover. “The Ancient Ways, Erco the Philosopher, second volume?” Martin glared at Navir. “You didn’t tell me to look in the second volume.”

“Didn’t I?” Navir asked with a frown. “I could have sworn-”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“You didn’t,” Martin stated again.

Navir looked surprised. “Forgive me. Simple mistake.”

Martin glared at him, doubting very much it was a simple mistake. “I have spent days searching.”

“Well, you certainly could have asked me,” Navir said, heading back out of the library. “I could have helped you.”

Martin glared at Navir’s retreating form before he looked back at the book. Navir had to be manipulating him, but at least he left the page open. Martin let out a sigh, rubbing his head again. He should get some sleep. He needed to take some calming tea. The past evening had been brutal to him, but instead, Martin took the book from the pedestal and returned to the reading room. What better way to distract him from his situation than with trying to solve the other large issue in his life.

***

At Tolomon’s sign, Indenuel got off his horse. The sun crested the horizon, but still far too bright. He followed Tolomon toward a tree. Tolomon’s eyes darted every which way before he leaned down.

“There are a few traps set up, but we won’t trigger them if you step exactly where I step. Understand?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel nodded. He followed Tolomon, stepping exactly where he stepped, doing everything Tolomon did, down to breathing the exact same way. They inched their way further until Indenuel started to see the camps. There were tents. A lot of them. He felt the familiar fear trickling through his soul. Tolomon watched the camp, calculating.

Five hundred and thirty-four a demon said.

Indenuel reached over, tapping his bodyguard’s shoulder. Tolomon glanced at him, then at the numbers on his fingers. His face fell, giving a grim nod. Five hundred. Five hundred soldiers, all by himself. Indenuel looked at the camp again, watching them eating their dinner. Talking amongst themselves. Looking human.

Tolomon touched Indenuel’s shoulder. He placed a finger to his lips before pointing upward. A Kiamese soldier was in the trees keeping watch. Indenuel didn’t dare breathe. That soldier would have killed him if he had the chance. All these men would have. He couldn’t forget that.

Indenuel closed his eyes, waiting. There were barely over five hundred soldiers here. This must be it. He would wipe all these people out, and he’d be done. The war would be over, and he could recover. He wasn’t sure how exact the prophecy needed to be. He turned again to Tolomon. He motioned to himself before holding up a five and two zeros before pointing at Tolomon and holding up thirty-four, though tried to also tell Tolomon to stay hidden. The man looked confused, so Indenuel shrugged. He faced the camp again, feeling his chest tighten, not ready to go through all this again.

He closed his eyes, knowing they had sneaked through the camp because Indenuel hadn’t let his corruptive powers get strong. He needed to get angry, to get ready.

The sun set below the horizon. Indenuel bowed his head, tapping into the anger he had the day before. Tried to remember what Navir said. Even at the thought of Navir he started to get angry. He was nothing but a hypocrite. But it wasn’t Navir he needed to get angry at. He needed to get angry at Kiam.

Indenuel heard an arrow hitting a shield. He opened his eyes to see Tolomon right next to him, a shield above them. “We’ve been spotted.”

“Stay low. I think I can handle this,” Indenuel said, feeling his breath coming in sharper.

“You think?” Tolomon asked.

“If not, I’ll take five hundred, and you take thirty-four.” Three more arrows hit his shield. It was only after that Tolomon winced. “Are you alright?”

“Just… be careful,” Tolomon said.

Indenuel nodded. He closed his eyes again, forcing himself to remember the anger, the fear, the hurt, all of it. There were over five hundred soldiers here he needed to kill so he could finally rest. As it was already proven, if he didn’t kill them first, they would kill him.

Indenuel raised his hand, the black ooze hitting the man in the trees above, straining against the weak anger, forcing it up his body until it hit his brain. Tolomon stepped out of the way as the man fell from the trees.

Five hundred and thirty-three.

Indenuel winced, looking at the camp as the men shouted and armed themselves. He was losing his element of surprise.

Please help, Indenuel thought to the demons.

Man on your left, drop him with pain.

Indenuel tried, throwing a weak amount of ooze at the man. He groaned but pulled out his sword. Memories flitted through his mind of the man screaming at his wife. The more of the memories the demons allowed him to see, the angrier he got at this man, and he found no trouble at all pushing the pain to his brain.

Keep doing that. That helps, Indenuel said.

He moved through the camp, sensing the memories of all these men. It became easier, watching their lives flicker through his eyes of the very worst things they have done. None of these men were free of guilt, and the pain shot through their brains when he saw them murdering Santollian citizens, jeering at Santollian women, slaughtering Santollian soldiers. The anger coursed through him as he hit soldier after soldier with pain.

Dodge left.

Arrow. Drop.

Group of men getting closer. Hit them.

Indenuel tried to see, but in the end, he kept his eyes closed. He was angry enough that he was using both hands. Rain started to fall, and he felt a thin mist brush his skin.

Man on your right.

Grab his throat.

Let us show you what he did.

Once you saw what he did,

Break the trees.

Indenuel obeyed, grabbing the man by his throat. He sensed it, a man who had fought in the battle before breaking off to try and come to Santollia City. Indenuel watched brief snippets of this man’s fight with a Santollian. With a Captain.

Captain Luiz.

Indenuel tightened his fingers over the man’s throat, knowing exactly how this was going to end. The demons wouldn’t show him if it ended well. An arrow hit Captain Luiz in the stomach, breaking his concentration, and the soldier slit his throat.

Indenuel opened his eyes, glaring at the man who gasped for air. “He had children, you bastard. Young children. He had a wife. He had a brother.” Indenuel grabbed the man’s own sword before plunging it deep into the man’s throat. “He was my friend.” The man would have no idea what Indenuel said, but he didn’t care.

Indenuel broke the trees, glaring at the men full of sin as he moved the branches, collecting the men like meat on a stick. None of them were free of crime. All of them deserved to die. Indenuel moved through the camp, disconnecting from the trees long enough to use his two hands to throw pain at the people coming closer to him, flicking his wrists into the air before returning to the branches, using huge swipes to knock the larger groups off their feet, killing some, injuring all. The fog grew thicker as Indenuel worked, ignoring the cold.

Three hundred and sixty-two

Three hundred and sixty-one

Three hundred and fifty-eight.

The ground was soaked in rain and blood. Indenuel moved, fueled by rage. Calls for action turned into screams of fear. Indenuel kept his eyes closed. It was easier to see the memories, to see exactly why all these men deserved to be slaughtered. Unfaithful to his wife. Pain straight to the brain. Stole his father’s earnings. Branch through the heart. Beat his son. Pain. Raped his daughter.

Indenuel sneered, throwing his energy into the sky and bringing a bolt of lightning down on the camp right on the man. The camp exploded with noise and the ground caught on fire. Religion would never terrify these people into doing the right thing. That was his job now.

Two hundred and forty-eight

Two hundred and forty-seven

Two hundred and forty-six.

Indenuel reached out, a feeling he hadn’t had since Inessa was kidnapped. Every finger threw pain at ten different individuals, and he dropped them all with a flick. He couldn’t tell if people tried to block him. He just listened to the demons in his head as he dropped three more groups, feeling the heat of the fire as it burned through the camp.

One hundred and eighty-five

One hundred and seventy-four.

One hundred and sixty.

One hundred and forty-eight.

Indenuel moved through the mud, moving his arms, throwing pain at the bodies, bringing death.

The rain poured; the fire grew. He sensed a familiar figure, and he knew Garen was right behind him, saying nothing. Indenuel continued to work, the rage powering through. Rapists, wife abusers, child abusers, murderers. None of these people deserved to live, and none of them would.

A group of about thirty individuals came after him, swords raised, screaming in a war cry. Indenuel opened his eyes before he grabbed a tree, bending the trunk in half and snapping it toward the group, decapitating most of them. The ones that remained were skewered with the branches, leaving them for dead.

Sixty-five

Sixty-three

Sixty.

Fifty-nine.

Fifty-four.

Indenuel closed his eyes again, listening to the demons as they lead him to the remaining men. Garen stayed close, curious. The demons were active and helping, the devil himself was quiet.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-four.

Twenty.

Seventeen.

Fifteen.

Indenuel threw the pain at the soldiers, dropping them. He hadn’t seen memories for the last hundred soldiers. He didn’t need to. He was already filled with enough rage that he didn’t need any more reason to kill. He simply did. Wiped out everyone. Filled their bodies with pain. Forced branches to rip out hearts and lungs. Burned them from the fires of the empty heavens.

Two.

One.

No survivors.

No one escaped.

You won.

Indenuel opened his eyes. He reached forward numbly, touched the branch of a corrupted tree, and broke off a piece of bark. He hadn’t forgotten. He placed it under his tongue, almost gagging at the pure revulsion of having it in his mouth. He almost spat it out, but covered his mouth with his blood covered hand to keep it in. He needed Tolomon to sleep. He needed to see Inessa.

But does she want to see you?

Indenuel looked up again, keeping his mouth covered, seeing the destruction in the light of the fire. Saw countless bodies. Felt the heat of a fire burning too close. He knelt in liquid more blood than rain. More brain matter than mud. The clouds cleared as the four stars twinkled in the early evening sky. He had done this. All of this. Would Inessa want to see him?

Garen stood, watching. Indenuel met his gaze, the dread returning. The devil smiled, then disappeared as Tolomon coming toward him, both swords drawn, horror on his face. “Indenuel?”

He didn’t speak, simply looked at Tolomon, revulsion in his mouth as he lowered his head. He realized how this would look, kneeling in filth, destruction all around him.

A tear fell down his cheek. He sent men to Hell tonight. And a small part of him admitted not everyone went there. But Indenuel would. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t sold his soul. If he wasn’t sure about the state of his soul before, he was now. He was bound for Hell for fulfilling the prophecy.

Tolomon grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling over into the blood and organs on the ground. “We’ve got to get out of here before this fire spreads. Come on.” Tolomon grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder.

Indenuel closed his eyes, fire and destruction fading away as the corrupted tree bark pressed against the bottom of his tongue.