Indenuel kept his eyes closed. It was always easier. Better than to see the carnage he was creating. But he heard the screams. Understood what it meant when the screams were cut short. He was slaughtering them again. In the back of his mind, he assumed he was done. There was something that happened that made it so he didn’t need to do this anymore, but he was here, so he continued to skewer the Kiamese soldiers.

He opened his eyes, just to be sure it was the Kiam. He saw the colorless grey eyes and knew he was right where he was supposed to be. In the middle of a slaughter. He had orders. Get rid of them all. Leave no survivors.

The trees fell. The screams loud. Branches pierced into stomachs, heads, chests. Rain battered against him. This was familiar. Tension filled, covered in blood, familiar. The stench of blood was in the air, the only warmth coming from the piles of recently spilled innards. He was efficient. Brutal. Cold.

He was out of his body. Indenuel frowned, watching his own self breaking the wills of the trees, slaughtering the hundred or so Kiamese soldiers when he was thrown into a soldier. The tree rammed right through his chest, and he screamed in pain, feeling the branch rip out his organs. His spirit left his body, only to go into another Kiamese soldier who was being crushed by a tree. Indenuel screamed at the pain before he was thrown into another body. Pain. Terrible, corruptive pain he could not handle before it went straight to the brain.

“Wake up! This has to be a nightmare! This isn’t real!”

“It is real, though,” Garen said beside him, smiling. “Hell is for eternity. You are going to understand what it felt like to die in over a thousand ways. I just wanted to get started now. Some of my new friends you sent heard Martin forgave you, and they wanted to make sure you understood exactly the kind of monster you are.”

“Stop,” Indenuel said, barely a whisper. “Please, no.” A tree barreled toward him, decapitating him and he gasped, holding his neck as his soul left the body. “Stop! Stop it!”

Another sharp pain hit his face, but there was no tree or pain to account for it. It was a slap. Tolomon must be slapping him.

“You are still marked. It doesn’t matter the color of it. You are still mine,” Garen said.

When the next slap hit he forced himself to wake up. He did, gasping. “Tolomon?” Indenuel asked.

“Tell me something only awake Indenuel would know,” Tolomon said, loud enough to get past the screams.

“I…” Indenuel froze. The screams. The swarms. The darkness making the torches shiver in the cold. “Demons…” he whispered. “Oh, God, they’re everywhere.”

Tolomon looked around, frowning. Indenuel closed his eyes again, trying to curl into a ball but he couldn’t while he was chained to the table. “Shit, you might still be asleep,” Tolomon said, running over the basin and pouring a glass of water. Indenuel clamped his eyes shut, even as Tolomon splashed water on him. “Did you feel that?”

“Of course I felt that,” Indenuel said, keeping his eyes shut. “It’s the Day of the Devil all over again. They’re everywhere.”

Tolomon was there, at his side, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to say something but Indenuel couldn’t hear. The screams grew louder, and he felt the icy patches on his skin from demons trying to claw at him. He heard the groaning and the hissing. Tolomon kept trying to comfort him, but it wasn’t working. He tried to curl up in a ball, but it was impossible with how he was chained.

“I killed them,” Indenuel said as tears streamed down his face. “I killed them all. They’ve come back to haunt me. They won’t stop screaming at me.”

“Hold on,” Tolomon said, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Dalius is coming. He’ll protect you.”

Indenuel continued to cry, shaking his head because it was the only thing he could do. He killed over a thousand soldiers, and it seemed like every single one of them had crammed into the cell to scream, jeer, and cry at him. Indenuel tried to last as long as he could, but he broke. He started to sob.

“You’re alright, Indenuel.” Tolomon was being drowned out by the screams. “Dalius is coming.”

You are a monster.

You don’t deserve forgiveness.

You’re going to fall.

The devil will have your soul.

Hell was created for monsters like you.

Indenuel began to scream, trying to drown out the voices.

You know we’re right!

“No!” Indenuel kept his eyes shut. “You’re wrong! You’re wrong!”

Garen will have you!

You are a murderer.

Murderers don’t go to heaven.

“STOP IT!” Indenuel shouted.

The cell door opened, and he heard Dalius say something to Tolomon, but he continued screaming to drown the demonic voices out.

Dalius placed his hand on his shoulder. It gave him little comfort. Dalius looked around. “Good God, they’re everywhere.”

Indenuel kept his eyes shut tight, his voice raw from shouting. All at once the demons were silenced and Indenuel gasped in pain as he opened his eyes. Dalius was on his knees, his arms outstretched, a pure white forcefield around the room, growing bigger every moment, pushing the demons out of the room.

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Indenuel’s voice was hoarse, but his body still trembled with sobs as he tried to come to terms with what happened. Dalius stood up as the shield moved past the room and disappeared. “I’ll bring some blessed objects down here to keep them away. I cannot promise your dreams will be peaceful, but when you wake up, the demons won’t be there.” Indenuel nodded, too weak to do much else, too embarrassed to look Dalius in the eye. “I’m sorry,” Dalius said.

“No, you’re not,” Indenuel whispered, his voice hoarse.

Dalius about said something, then changed his mind. Instead, he grabbed a chair. “Tolomon, unlock his chains around his torso. Usually after a bad dream like this, the subject is far more willing to give up the corruption. Let’s see how much we can get out.”

Tolomon nodded, taking out a key and unlocking the chains. Indenuel closed his eyes again, bracing himself as Dalius and Tolomon undid his shirt, moving it to his elbows. Dalius touched each individual mark before pulling, and Indenuel almost bit his tongue off as a power pulled against his skin.

Indenuel opened his eyes, letting out a breath as sweat formed on his forehead. Dalius was focused entirely on pulling the thin ribbons of corruption from the marks on his chest. He moved his hands forward, not touching the corruption, but still pulling something.

Indenuel watched the man’s face. Dalius ignored him, focused completely on his work. This man, who was a relation through blood, would continue to act as though they weren’t family. Because it didn’t matter to him. And honestly, Indenuel didn’t want him as family.

The corruption stalled, and Dalius strained to keep pulling.

“What’s happening?” Tolomon asked.

“I’m not sure,” Dalius said, not even looking at Indenuel’s face as he strained against the corruption.

Indenuel closed his eyes, trying to keep the anger in. This was going to be impossible. He thought he was only supposed to be the High Elder’s weapon, and now he needed to be their diplomat, too.

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to see Tolomon, who was looking right at him.

“Are you alright, Indenuel?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel sighed, staring at the ceiling. Dalius started pulling again, the corruption giving way, but it was slow going. “I will be.”

Tolomon smiled, patting his shoulder before looking down at the mark in concern. Indenuel watched Tolomon, saw the concern, and remembered it was him and others like him that he sacrificed himself like this. Tolomon, the children, Inessa, all the good people of the world who depended on him again. Tolomon didn’t agree to his sacrifice. That much was clear. Inessa, Nathaniel, none of them wanted him to do this, but they would stand by him as he healed himself. They still loved him. They wouldn’t abandon him. Would they?

“Are you going to be with me when I meet with the Empress?” Indenuel asked.

Dalius finally looked up at Indenuel, but he was looking at Tolomon. Tolomon met his gaze again. “Of course.”

“As my bodyguard?”

“And your friend.”

“And you won’t leave my side?” Indenuel asked.

Tolomon shook his head. “Never.”

Indenuel tried to smile, and was surprised to feel like he could.

“Ah, there we go,” Dalius said as a huge chunk of corruption came out of Indenuel. He pulled as quickly as he could, and Indenuel closed his eyes, feeling the corruption give way like a large chunk of ice breaking off into a fire. “How’s that feel?”

Indenuel looked down to see his marks still a dark red, but now it was red. Much better than the almost black color it had been. “Better,” Indenuel said.

Dalius patted him on the shoulder. “Good man. The lighter it is, the easier it is to pull out. I’ll be back tomorrow morning and we’ll keep working on it.”

He headed out of the cell as Tolomon straightened Indenuel’s shirt, tying the strings.

“I’m sorry. The demons,” Indenuel mumbled. “They terrify me. I… I didn’t mean to act how I did.”

Tolomon smiled before picking up the chains. “They are demons of Hell terrifying you with dark nightmares in your sleep and terrorizing you while you’re awake. Of course you’re going to sob like a child.”

“It’s… embarrassing,” Indenuel said.

Tolomon’s smile dropped as he started to chain Indenuel to the table. “It’s alright. I’d rather you be terrified of them then…” Tolomon trailed off. He finished chaining Indenuel to the table before picking up the mask. “Then to welcome them,” Tolomon finished, placing the metal plate back in Indenuel’s mouth before locking the mask in place.

***

Martin placed the quill back in the ink pot before picking up his sermon and reading through it. He made minimal changes. Simply made sure it flowed well. He placed it in the top drawer before standing up and leaving his study in the Cathedral right as Navir was walking up the steps from the basement library. Navir caught his glance, and in that small moment of time, Martin realized distinctly the power he now had over Navir, and the man across from him understood it too. Then Navir smiled as though neither one of them had acknowledged it.

“Have you finished your sermon?” Navir asked.

“Yes, I have. I will be ready to give it this Sabbath,” Martin said.

“Wonderful,” Navir said. Martin smiled, far too used to Navir’s politicking. He would of course pretend nothing happened, that the anger and threats from the trial a couple days ago were as though they had never happened. Navir was already planning his next moves, and during that time, his relationship with Martin would be as though Navir had done nothing wrong. “It seems my wife and concubines have accepted your invitation to Inessa’s betrothal party.”

“Yes, yes, my wife now has the honor of hosting the first party for the nobility since news broke out that Indenuel has beaten the Kiam army.”

Navir smiled again, and it honestly looked genuine, but Martin was starting to think he’d never actually seen him genuinely happy. Granted, the times he did look genuinely happy was when he’d won an argument, and those smiles were more wolfish than what he’d call happy.

“A huge honor, one I believe Sara will exceed our expectations. I shall see you tonight then,” Navir said.

Martin bowed. “I shall see you tonight.” Martin left the Cathedral, feeling the smile on his face drop the farther he moved away from Navir. He was always weary around Navir, and he hated it. But it seemed as though Navir was weary around everyone.

Martin climbed into his carriage and headed home. It was barely after lunch, but he wanted to make sure he was there for Sara if she needed him. A party of this magnitude needed to go well, but Sara had thrown so many it was practically second nature to her.

Martin arrived home, doing little else but walking into the garden, finding Sara, and kissing her on the cheek to let her know he was home if she needed him before walking into his study to do some meditation. His powers, in the infant state they were, needed to start growing. He lit some incense as he listened to the sounds of Sara getting the garden ready for the party. The High Elders had of course broken the news soon after Indenuel’s trial. They were hopeful that Indenuel fulfilled the prophecy. The Grand Empress was coming in another few weeks to discuss the future of the war with Indenuel. The mountain of water they had all seen was from Indenuel tapping into God-like powers to save them all from the Kiamese army headed their way. Indenuel needed to rest and recover from such a God-like use of power. They didn’t bother telling the public that Indenuel was in fact in the dungeon, nor that the mark of the devil was on his chest. That, too, was another secret they would hide from the public. Once the mark was lighter in color, once he was healed completely, they discussed the possibility of having him in public, at least for Sabbath worship services. But Martin was afraid it wouldn’t be for months yet, and it also depended on how the negotiations went.

Before he settled down to meditate, he felt shame prick at his soul. Once again, they were placing the fate of Santollia on the shoulders of Indenuel, and he was still marked.