Chapter 9: August 18th
Logan and Vogh sat in a dark room, making sure that there was no trace of the Church’s light. Only a single torch between them let them knew they were talking to each other.
“…So that’s what happened. I wouldn’t have known if not for you.” Vogh thanked him.
“The information came from Dr. Mav, and given the current circumstances he most likely wouldn’t be lying. At this rate it’ll be the end of the line for both of our candidates.” Logan informed.
“I see. I was told to be at the ceremony, but nothing of what occurred. Most likely they don’t plan to uphold the end of our agreement.” Vogh sighed.
“Our agreement, huh?” Logan pondered. “What’s the point of upholding it if there’s no need to? They can just use us all they want and throw us away at any time. That’s the kind of people they are.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Vogh nodded. “How’s your candidate?”
“Don’t worry about my candidate. I’ve awoken her with a ritual and she handled the deathmatches effortlessly. I doubt your candidate can beat her now.” Logan laughed. “So, what will you do?”
“My candidate will surely be forced out. When his vessel breaks, they’ll surely move onto yours or Dr. Mav’s assistance. And if both of them fail then its restart all over again.” Vogh pondered.
“I wanted to get back the part that’s been stripped away from me… but now I just want this to be done with. If this cycle goes on we’ll never know peace.” Logan said.
“Dr. Mav told you all this… then that must mean he’s asking us for our help.” Vogh said.
For just a second, the dark room was penetrated by a sliver of light. The door opened and closed as quickly as possible for a figure to step in.
“Finally here.” Logan said to the approaching figure.
“Sorry for being late. On my way here I spotted Bishop Traitin with a whip in his hand. Given the circumstances, I was afraid to let him approach Pontiff’s cell so I took a detour.” Dr. Mav apologized.
“I understand. It’d be bad to let them suffer any more damages than they need to.” Logan said.
“Thank you for coming, Dr. Mav.” Vogh said. “May I ask why you told us all this?”
“I figured since you two are the only ones left with candidates, you’d be willing to help me if it’s for their sake. But more than anything else, I want you to help Pontiff escape.” Dr. Mav said. “So, do you think you can do it?”
“We have our own hands tied. If it wasn’t for our restriction, I’d blast a hole to outside.” Logan said.
“No, I don’t think that’ll work regardless of our restraints.” Vogh said. “Dr. Mav, how did you enter this place?”
“By the help of Bishop Borker. He was the one who requested me, after all.” Dr. Mav replied.
“Wait!” Logan silently shouted. “Keep it short; no explanation. We’re short on time, and the faster Dr. Mav gets back to work, the better.”
“Hm… I agree. Let’s just think of a plan and call it quits for today.” Dr. Mav said.
The three of them sat there, thinking long and hard about August 18th.
Vogh was in a complete trance, recalling all the information he knew to help him. Logan racked his brain with steams coming out of his ears. Dr. Mav sat quietly, waiting for the two of them.
“Any ideas?” Logan dispiritedly asked.
“There might just be a way… but it’s not a guarantee.” Vogh said.
“Oh? What do you have in mind?” Logan inquired.
“Before I tell you, the plan involves your entire cooperation. No matter what happens, you have to put success first. What do you say?” Vogh asked.
“That’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Mav replied.
“Repeating the same stuff for another chance at failure, or take a chance at victory…” Logan considered for a quick second. “How low are our chances?”
“Trust me when I say that it will be easier on your heart to just blindly trust the odds.” Vogh met his concern gaze with a smile.
***
Rattling chains and soft groans resounded from the cell Morr was locked in. Both his arms and legs were chained to the wall, and his neck had a collar that was attached to an iron ball. The length of it was barely long enough to keep him from snapping his neck.
Footsteps steadily approached the torch outside of the cell. The sound stopped right before the cell, with its shadow crossing over the doorway.
“Hey, kid. You alive?” Vogh whispered.
He didn’t dare to peek inside. The wounds for scratching a Bishop wouldn’t be light, let alone injuring one. Vogh also knew what their objective was, and as long as the boy is still alive, then torture before death’s door was a possibility -- he didn’t want to see the result of it.
“Vogh?” Morr murmured.
“Good. Keep it low.” Vogh whispered.
“And here I thought someone was about to finish me off…” Morr whispered.
“How are you doing?” Vogh asked.
“Vogh.” Morr said.
“What is it?” Vogh inquired.
“Are you really… on my side? Was the talk about escaping mere lies?” Morr asked despondently.
“No, escape is still a possibility.” Vogh assured.
“That’s funny.” Morr distastefully laughed. “Before you came here, Bishop Traitin visited me, surprisingly. I didn’t recognize him at first with his face wrapped all-around, but after seeing the whip in his hand and how well he used it on me… well, it wasn’t hard to put one and one together.”
“Bishop Traitin came here?” Vogh gulped. “But I thought he--“
“Was looking for Pontiff?” Morr presumed. “He did, but someone interrupted him. That bastard should be a musician. He swung his whip beautifully in rhythm, while screaming this-and-that about Pontiff, and how I will never escape this place.”
“I see…” Vogh heaved a big sigh of regret.
“Tell me: Was I a fool for believing in someone I barely know? For thinking that I can escape this place?” Morr quietly asked.
In the space between the two of them, even the slightest movement could be loudly heard.
Vogh sat in silence and refused to even look at the boy.
“When I first woke up to this place, I thought people will come save me one day. That someone out there will surely miss me and come looking for me. But no one did.” Morr’s voice gradually soften. “I can’t even remember the faces of my parents now. But then you came along and helped me. I thought, with your help, I can definitely escape this place. …But that’s not true, is it?”
Vogh sighed again. He never thought about it from the kid’s perspective.
“Go on! Call me a fool. Sing it to the world! As if the biggest fool in the world isn’t so easily spotted.” Morr’s shout shifted to a murmur.
“…Do you still want to escape?” Vogh finally asked in a compassionate tone.
“How many times have I heard that word and how many more times will I hear it?” Morr asked.
“Listen, kid, if there’s one thing I want you to know, then it’s this: people act on self-interest as a top priority.” Vogh said. “The only one who will look out for you is yourself. Understood?”
“Then--” Morr murmured.
“Forget about what Bishop Traitin said. I’m acting the same way. You are my gateway out of this place. I need your help, which is why I helped you.” Vogh said with confidence. “Understood?”
“Then at least tell me who you are. That isn’t too hard, is it?” Morr asked.
“Vogh Stonewall, but you already know me as that.” Vogh heaved a big sigh before recounting his memories. “I was in a similar position as you: someone who was dancing in the Church’s palm. I fought and got to the top, but the only thing waiting at the top was a pair of dice and death itself. I begged for my life and one thing led to another. I was bounded by the Church and have been working for them ever since.”
“You were just like me… So that’s why you knew so much about this place.” Morr murmured.
“No. We may be similar, but this is where we walk different paths. Your path to escape isn’t obscured or washed out -- you still have a chance.” Vogh encouraged. “What do you say?”
“Toss me a rope and pull me along, because I can’t even walk right now.” Morr said.
“Then listen up.” Vogh smiled.
***
August 18, East Woodland…
Deep within the thick forest of East Woodland lies a chapel a few meters south of the paved road. Many wagons pulled by horses were parked near the road. The thickness of the trees and the sheer amount of it wouldn’t allow a wagon to pass by.
The inside of the chapel was dark, but there was a spotlight on the main stage. Rows and columns of people sat on benches, but only the first row was discernable. Just by looking at their extravagant clothes and its rich quality, one could tell that behind their luxurious mask they must be a lavish person. In front of all those people was the main stage, and on it, was a small pedestal that held a black chalice decorated with gold stripes. Bishop Borker stepped onto the main stage and into the spotlight.
“Welcome and thank you for all your patronage and services to this day!” Bishop Borker announced. “To show our appreciation for today and the prosperous future, we would like to present you all something you’ve never seen before: The Sixth Wonder of the World!”
The spotlight moved towards the black chalice.
The crowd clapped and cheered in admiration.
“June’s Cup, which I’m sure some of you thought was a myth, is right in front of your eyes!” Bishop Borker excitingly shouted.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The crowd went into an uproar.
“June’s Cup? The cup that is said to be purgatory?!” A man in the front row excitingly shouted.
“Correct!” Bishop Borker said. “But that’s not all! June’s Cup is a relic that has only been seen by you, the people here!”
“We’re the only ones to see it…?” A woman audibly thought.
“Then that means… “Another man in the front row seat pondered.
“How much for it?!” A woman shouted in the second row.
The show suddenly transformed into an auction house. One person in the crowd immediately shouted an offer, and the next one increased it by twice the amount. Hands were thrown into the air, waiting for an answer.
“Calm down, please.” Bishop Borker urged.
The spotlight went back on him.
“Today is not the day for bidding,” Bishop Borker addressed, “for we have something in mind far more interesting.”
The crowd grew silent and awaited his response.
“This will be the only time anyone in the world will bore witness to a new power!” Bishop Borker shouted. “Sit back and behold, for this is a once-in-a-lifetime event!”
The crowd glued their butts to their seats and stared with eager eyes through their mask.
Bishop Traitin walked onto the stage with Vogh Stormwall following behind. Behind those two was Morr with his hands and feet chained.
“This is Revenant Stormwall, one of our finalist for this year’s congregation!” Bishop Borker excitingly shouted. “And his candidate for this trial!”
Next to approach the spotlight was Logan and Priscilla, but she wasn’t chained up like Morr. She stood up-right and faced forward without an ounce of fear. She didn’t perceive the blurry faces that surrounded her as threats at all.
“This is Revenant Murell, another one of our finalist!” Bishop Borker shouted. “And his candidate for this trial!”
Last one to approach the spotlight was Pontiff, who was by himself. Pontiff gave off the aura that he was depress, but his facial muscles never strayed from its deadpan emotion.
“This is a candidate for someone who couldn’t make it today. Nevertheless, it is still an impressive feat to make it this far.” Bishop Borker said.
The spotlight widened to encompass the entire stage.
The crowd were eager and excited to see what Bishop Borker had in store.
Bishop Borker approached half-way towards the pedestal.
“Revenant Stormwall, come forth with your candidate!” Bishop Borker turned around with a smile on his face.
Morr and Vogh walked towards Bishop Borker.
“Failure is always a possibility,” Bishop Borker faced the crowd, “please keep that in mind. Success is not certain, but we must try and try so that we can succeed. Bishop Traitin, please do the honors.”
Bishop Traitin approached Morr and Vogh. With a swoop of his hand, he swiped Morr’s ragged clothes off and revealed his naked body. From the neck and below, his body was riddled with scars that were a few days old. His face and his back were normal compared to his front.
The crowd gasped at the sight of the boy’s body. But any signed of uneasiness was quickly quelled by Bishop Borker.
“Fear not,” Bishop Borker reassured, “this boy is tainted by the greatest sins. Do not feel sorry for him, for he won’t feel sorry for you. Do not sympathize his state, for his young nature is just a façade. He is young, but he has killed many! His hands were stained from the moment he was born!”
Bishop Traitin procured a bottle of holy water from his pocket and drenched Morr in it. The wounds throughout his body stung with a slight burn. Morr groaned and kept his face low. He refused to look at the people who’d gladly watch him be humiliated.
“Let his shell be cleansed! Let his body be healed for the incoming power!” Bishop Borker shouted. “Before we can bore witness to a new power, the vessel must be purged from all of its sins! Archbishop Grail couldn’t be here because of the on-going war, so this spiritual prayer will be done by us.”
“Bishop Borker,” Vogh interrupted, “if I may have a word.”
“What is it?” Bishop Borker turned around.
“The word ‘escape’ is relative, isn’t it?” Vogh asked.
Bishop Borker, perplexed at his question, didn’t even pay attention to the boy next to him.
Morr extended his arms to stretch the chains.
Vogh immediately chopped down and broke him free.
Bishop Borker immediately heard the sound and turned around with a bleak expression.
“Revenant Vogh Stormwall! Down!” He shouted.
What befell Vogh was a ton of weight that crushed him to the floor. The floor cracked as he struggled on his hands and knees. Bishop Borker was right next to him, but he didn’t seem affected at all.
Morr hopped away with the chain between his feet still intact. He didn’t dare look back, and tried to ignore it.
Just as Bishop Borker was about to chase after Morr, a loud explosion came from behind, and deafened his ears. He turned around and saw Logan with his fist in a deep hole on the stage. Enraged by their insolence, Bishop Borker clutched his fist with his veins nearly popping out.
“Revenant Logan Murell! Down!” Bishop Borker angrily shouted.
Logan fell to the floor in a similar state to Vogh. The smirk on his face didn’t write him off as a loser. Just an inch closer and his whole body would’ve fallen into the hole he created.
Bishop Traitin quickly chased Morr, but the boy was already at the pedestal.
Morr picked up the black chalice and looked inside… but there was nothing. Its content was entirely empty. The longer he stared at the cup, the more he was fixed in a trance.
“Aisling, hearken: dip into the well.” A voice entered into his ears. The tone sounded like it belonged to someone who lived for thousands of years. It was heavy and overwhelming, but easy on the ears.
Morr turned around, but the voice didn’t come from behind. Vogh and Logan were forced on the ground. Pontiff and Priscilla watched as Bishop Traitin ran. He ran as fast as possible to stop the boy, but every millisecond he became slower.
Morr looked around, and it wasn’t just Bishop Traitin. Everyone in the room became slower. The crowd’s gasped became slow and drawn-out. Bishop Borker’s shouts gradually silenced itself, while his mouth was still opened. Only a few seconds passed and everyone suddenly froze in place, as if someone hit the stop button on a playback.
“Aisling, hearken: hear the cries.” The same voice entered into his mind.
Morr returned his vision to the chalice and gazed up. Whether it was always there, or it just appeared there -- he doesn’t know. A swirling vortex of souls flowed towards the ceiling, and perhaps even passed it. Their wails soon descended onto his small ears, and that was all he could’ve heard. Their screech of sorrow was enough to cause an ordinary person to claw their brains out.
“This is… nothing.” Morr endured as he watched many souls filled the chalice in his hands.
“Aisling, hearken: present thyself.” This time the voice came from all around.
Within the blink of an eye, the entire room was gone and all that replaced it was darkness. In that perpetual darkness, he couldn’t tell whether he was floating or freefalling. Hot air flew passed him, and he turned around.
An enormous wall of white fire filled the corner of his eyes.
“Aisling… what do you want?” A majestic voice came from the direction of the wall of white fire.
Morr stared at the static fire. It was calm and pleasant, almost as if it was safe to touch.
“What I want… I want to be free.” Morr answered honestly.
“Emancipation…” The majestic voice said. “Talk from your heart. What do you want?”
“I want to be free… I want to…” Morr struggled to find the exact words he wanted to say. His tongue tied-up when he tried to say the word “free.” Involuntarily, one word after another filled his mouth. “I want to… I want to... I want to burn this world down.”
These words greatly shocked him, and he even doubted that he said it. But perhaps, maybe this is what he wanted after all. To see the world that had thrown a terrible fate upon him be burn to the ground.
“Aisling, hearken: this is what you truly want?” The majestic voice asked.
“Yes.” But this time, Morr truly spoke with all of his pure intentions.
“A grand ambition. The last time someone had this much will, was from an Aisling who wanted to prosper this world. If this is what you want, then so be it.” The majestic voice said.
The wall of white fire reached out to him. Morr reached his right hand out. The wall of white fire engulfed his hand, but it didn’t burn him. The middle of his right hand burned as a brand was etched onto it.
“Aisling, hearken: show me your story.” The majestic voice commanded.
Bishop Traitin only took a few seconds to reach the boy. He grabbed him by his hair and snatched June’s Cup away.
A sinister laugh came from the boy, it started off low and inaudible before filling the room with an engrossing laughter.
Everyone in the room stared at the boy, unaware as to what cause him to suddenly laugh like that.
Morr quickly grabbed Bishop Traitin’s face with his right hand and dug his nails deep into it. Bishop Traitin dropped the chalice as he tried to endure the pain of his old wounds.
The crowd gasped as they continue to watch what they think was a play.
A cape gradually grew from Morr’s shoulder blade. Everyone watching was at awe as to what it was and why it was growing. The color of vantablack covered him from his shoulder to his knees, as if everyone there was staring at the deepest depth of the abyss. Once it finished growing, Morr turned to Bishop Traitin and forced him onto his knees.
“Aisling, hearken: kill him!” Morr commanded.
A light sprouted from the holes in Bishop Traitin’s eyes and mouth. It was only for a second that the air between them shook. The brand on Morr’s right hand illuminated before dimming into its tatoo.
“What is going on!” Bishop Borker shouted at Bishop Traitin.
“It’ll be done.” Bishop Traitin answered. He leaped towards Bishop Borker with his hands prepared.
“Stop it!” Bishop Borker stepped back and shouted.
“What the hell is going on?” A man in the front row asked.
“Are they being serious?” A woman in the crowd asked.
The crowd grew restless as the play went on.
Priscilla ran towards the man scurrying away and kicked Bishop Borker’s spine to forced him forward.
Bishop Borker wobbled forward before falling into Bishop Traitin’s cluctches. It was quick and merciless. Bishop Traitin gouged Bishop Borker’s eyes and dropped them on the floor. But he didn’t stop there. He grabbed the black chalice and hammered it, repeatedly, until the innards of his head oozed out.
Only after the deed had been done did the crowd began to panic. They all rushed towards the door, shouting and screaming for their own safety. Their mannerism was more akin to that of a primitive ape than a high-class, refined person.
“It is done...” Bishop Traitin dropped to the ground without a speck of life in him.
Morr pulled the corner of his cape and covered his front as he approached Vogh, who was shaking the stupor from his head.
“It’s finally over. Let’s get out of here.” Morr reached out his hand.
“No,” Vogh shook his head, “you’re not finished here.”
“What are you talking about?” Morr asked.
“I knew it when I saw you for the first time. That fire in you won’t stay quiet with this.” Vogh said.
“I never thought it’d work,” Logan nodded, “but it did. Listen up, brat, take good care of my candidate. She’s strong; she won’t slow you down.”
Morr looked at Logan, then at Vogh, confused as to what the two were talking about.
“What are you saying, Vogh? The door’s that way, let’s just leave.” Morr said.
“You saw it, didn’t you? The words of the church compel us.” Vogh informed. “No matter how far we go, or where we go, it’ll all be the same.”
“Dr. Mav’s assistance, please come here.” Logan called.
Pontiff complied and walked towards Logan.
“Dr. Mav should’ve left it with you, right?” Logan inquired. “Show me.”
Pontiff pulled out his scalpel from his pocket and placed it on the floor.
“What’s going on?” Morr asked.
“The fire within you… it’ll engulf the world from the way I see it.” Vogh said. “So show me, right now, how far will you go?”
Vogh picked up the scalpel with its sharp-end pointed at him and presented it to Morr.
“You want me to kill… you?” Morr hesitantly asked.
“What’s wrong? You weren’t this afraid at the beginning.” Vogh said.
“Don’t hesitate. Do it cleanly.” Logan instructed.
“There must be another way, right?” Morr, unconvinced by Vogh, asked.
“There probably is. We don’t know all there is about magic or how the world works.” Vogh said. “But, we can’t leave the Church. And given what just occurred, we’ll most likely be reprimanded for it. Are you so heartless that you’ll put us through more torment?”
“No… but…” Morr murmured.
“We are servants of the Church of Salvation.” Vogh reminded. “If you hesitate to even take us down, how can you even dream of taking down the entire Church? What a foolish kid.”
Morr took the scalpel and pointed his shaky hands at Vogh. He used his other hand in hope of steadying his aim, but it wouldn’t stop shaking.
“This is really dumb.” Logan stood up and pumped his chest, posing in an intimidating manner. “I’ll strike you down if you aren’t serious.”
Morr glared at Logan, but even then his hand was still slightly shaking.
Logan threw a slow punch, an immediate familiar scene that Morr once experienced. It was slow, but behind it, he felt a tremendous force that could kill him.
It didn’t take much to dodge a slow fist in his state, and it was as if Logan purposely made himself an easy target. Morr dodged to the side and cut through Logan’s hand and neck with a single swipe. The hand broke off, but there was no blood. It disintegrated into small particles that was washed away by the wind. But it didn’t stop there. His entire body continued the process, and he slowly disappeared. The expression on his face was that of one who had accepted death.
“We’ve ran away from death for so long… Finally… peace.” Logan departed with his last words.
“I’m glad.” Vogh smiled. “I don’t have any last words. Just do it.”
His face was as clam and compose as ever. The thought of death was as peaceful as it can be. A smile rose from the corner of his mouth and he closed his eyes. Vogh awaited his freedom.
“No, not like this.” The scalpel fell from Morr’s hand.
Vogh opened his eyes and was pleasantly surprised at the boy.
Morr stood up-right, with his gravity shifted onto one leg. Both of his hands were balled up near his face and ready to swing. The gluttonous, fiery eyes within the boy was a reminiscent scene that reminded Vogh of the first time he met the boy.
“Good! Excellent! This is the way it should be.” Vogh laughed. “Go on. Let me see how far you’ve came.”
At his order, Morr pivoted his foot and threw a roundhouse with the other. His foot cut cleanly across Vogh’s heart, and the particles emerging from it faded away. Vogh smiled through it all, until the very end.
Morr released a huge sigh that was bottled-up from the beginning.
“Good.” Pontiff commented.
Priscilla walked up to the boy, mesmerized by his face. She reached out her hands to grab something she couldn’t fathom. But before her hands could touch his face, it was quickly smacked away.
“Don’t touch me.” Morr said.
“Why can I see… your face?” Priscilla asked.
“Pontiff, let’s leave.” Morr said.
Pontiff nodded and walked behind him, followed by Priscilla.
The warming sunlight graced their body, just gently touching them. The breeze flew by, and it was soft and cool. Something as common as luscious greenery filled their eyes with tears. They’ve finally seen the world in its beauty. A moment they’ll never forget with just the three of them.
“Pontiff!” A man called out, waving his hands in the air under the shade of the trees.
Pontiff looked towards the caller and immediately recognize the white outfit.
“Doctor.” Pontiff replied as he ran towards him.
Morr turned around and looked at Priscilla in a picturesque, natural background.
“What are you going to do from now on?” Morr asked.
“I want to see and meet new people.” Priscilla answered.
“Hey, you two! Let’s go!” Dr. Mav called from afar.
“I see.” Morr said.
Morr and Priscilla followed Dr. Mav and Pontiff through the thick forest.