“Your Holiness, if I may be so bold, was it wise to so hastily make a decision”, Ilphas asked as the Pontifex stopped for a moment, to blow into his hand. Ilphas could feel an oppressive amount of energy coalesce as dozens of tiny stars spread from the Pontifex’s hand and down their path. As a follower of the Sky God, Halcyonus, very few people had enough power to literally manifest the heavens on the earth. As they followed the hundreds of lights, despite himself, Ilphas couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of such a casual display of what many considered the pinnacle of magic. Wherever the path led, they were traveling down.

  “Tell me, High Priest, when you receive a revelation from the gods, do you question it?”

  Ilphas knit his eyebrows in perplexion, “We are called to be the emissaries and servants of the gods here below. Questioning them means we consider our wisdom to be superior to theirs. To even speak of this would easily be considered heretical.”

  The Pontifex didn’t even turn around as he authoritatively raised one hand, “You are in the presence of the god’s most esteemed mouthpiece. I will decide whether or not your words prove to be an insult to the ones we worship.”

  The Pontifex was often known for his eccentricity, particularly to speak in riddles. It wasn’t unusual to see even the other High Priests walk away from a conversation with him looking as though their world had been shaken.

  Tentatively clearing his throat, “I believe that whatever edict the gods give us is something we are called to simply obey.”

  The Pontifex nodded, “That is often the answer I receive from many people in this city.”

  “You believe this to be a mistake.”

  “No, I merely believe this to be an incomplete way of thinking. Many centuries ago, before I even knew I would become the leader of our faith, I met many a doubter and when such a topic came up, I would often be accused of being blindly faithful. I was often asked ‘Is this truly the will of your god or simply you using your god’s name to prove a point.’”

  Ilphas felt a chill and rubbed his arm. He noticed that the wall had small droplets of condensation, indicating that they had traveled all the way underground, “I too have heard such arguments. Long have I held to the belief that it was required of us to cling to our tenets and trust that our god’s will would bear good fruit.”

  “Long have I held the same belief before coming to a singular conclusion”, the Pontifex paused rhetorically, “Then one day I found that such a belief is what gods such as Halcyonus do not desire. After all, deception and the twisting of the words of the holy is often the choice weapon of enemies such as the Conceptual Demons.”

  “But we who regularly devote ourselves to the gods would surely be able to know when we are being deceived”, Ilphas questioned, trying not to let his voice crack from the anxiety his leader was giving him.

  “It is precisely that form of thinking that led me to solidifying that I as the most esteemed teacher and receiver of the god’s will must question everything. To test the revelations I receive against what we know to be the truth, compared to what merely appears to be the truth makes a vital difference. For example, I know precisely which hero has been destined to become the champion of which country and do battle on which fronts.”, Ilphas nearly stumbled in shock but the Pontifex merely kept walking, “I have noticed that in recent years, the will of the gods only seems to become much more obscure, which is why it falls to the wisdom borne to me from their unseen guidance to make decisions. After all, is not silence a form of communicating in of itself? It is by one’s silence that one can ascertain an idea of what one wished to conceal.”

  The two came to a random wall, where the Pontifex waved his hand again and like before, another doorway opened, leading to a dungeon, complete with cells and the scent of unwashed bodies, old piss and broken dreams. The two walked in relative silence until they came to a seemingly random cell. The inside was relatively comfortable compared to the rest of the prison, having an actual mattress, a steady supply of candles and a tray with simple, but clean and nutritious food. This relative comfort only served to highlight the dark feeling that practically oozed from the cell.

  The food sat, untouched and cold, the candles, not just unlit, but their wicks untouched by flame and the mattress left without so much as a wrinkle from someone sleeping in it. And sitting huddled in the corner, sat the one remaining assassin from the attack on Edwin. Her eyes were wide, unfocused and almost completely devoid of any form of sapiency. She just sat there, staring at her shaking hands, which Ilphas noticed were conspicuously missing two fingers on her right hand.

  “It is for these sorts of reasons that I find myself so utterly disturbed by the silence I hear when I inquire about Edwin Thatch.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Between these forbidden debates and the state of the woman, Ilphas found himself highly disturbed. Nonetheless, the Pontifex merely continued while staring at the woman, “Ordinarily, when I find myself confronted with such silence, I can determine proper context when it arrives. But ever since Mr. Thatch arrived, I have encountered a silence unlike anything else I have ever heard”, the Pontifex looked back and saw Ilphas was fearfully enraptured, “When I inquire about that young man who finds himself so conspicuously dropped onto our doorstep, I am greeted with total silence. Baruth himself would find it difficult to find one of his graves to be more reverently silent than when the mystery of the Unknown Hero is mentioned. And yet, when I asked Mr. Thatch about the way he could have survived the attack, I found that silence to be deafeningly shattered.”

  Ilphas’ eyes widened, “The gods spoke to you directly”, he quickly lowered his head in respect to even being in the same proximity as a divine revelation.

  “Indeed, and I received a message unlike any other”, the Pontifex cryptically stated, clearly urging Ilphas to pry for more.

  “What were the gods’ orders?”

  Closing his eyes, as if in prayer, “I heard them say, ‘Suffer him not to remain in your hands’”, Ilphas hung off his leader’s every word. For a second he stood there waiting in anticipation, “That is all.”

  For a few seconds more, Ilphas was struck dumb, “That is all? That cannot be!”

  His eyes still closed, the Pontifex hung his head, “For as much as it pains me to say, what you heard is the full extent of what the gods have rendered unto me as instructions pertaining to the enigma that is Edwin Thatch.”

  Cupping his chin in careful thought, “Your Holiness, if I may be so bold, what you heard is unlike any other message from the gods.”

  It was true. Ordinarily, a message from the gods was much more extensive. Instructions could be incredibly convoluted and may not make any sense, but once they were carried out, the end result always made what was instructed clear. It was seen as a way of the gods' faith in the species that live below to learn and adapt for themselves as well as a sign that the gods believed they could handle a task by their own hands. But most importantly, it was seen as the gods granting the people of the world the agency to obey. Whether the end result was something that could have been avoided by following what was said to a closer measure, it heavily depended on whether someone faithfully obeyed. But to be given an instruction in such plain language was almost unheard of.

  “The oddest part of the message though wasn’t my instructions though. It was everything else”, the Pontifex continued in an uncertain tone that Ilphas had never heard from him before, “Halcyonus spoke to me without any preemption. I wasn’t even consulting Him during the trial and yet I heard his voice, clear as the sky He commands. And He spoke to me in a tone that sounded anxious. Nay, dare I say, it sounded almost fearful.”

  Right down to his very bones, Ilphas felt a cold that the dungeon would be hard pressed to elicit, “What could possibly make a god act in such haste?”

  During this entire exchange, the Pontifex’s eyes hadn’t wavered from the woman. Ilphas slightly shuffled his feet to try and find an outlet for the nervousness the last few minutes caused him.

  “High Priest, you are aware of the Halcyonic domain of Purification, are you not?”

  Ilphas raised an eyebrow, “Of course, Your Holiness. It’s the only domain within the entire Pantheon which can completely invalidate demonic Corruption.”

  “One of the branches of that domain is rooted in the examination of souls.”

  Unconsciously, both men found themselves uttering, “Magic is an extension of the soul. Guard it with your whole being.”

  It was the one rule that every nation saw as abject truth.

  “When I look at this woman’s soul, it is as though it were dampened. Like a candle blown out,” the Pontifex looked like he was at a funeral while Ilphas found himself backpedaling away from the catatonic woman, “Whatever Thatch is capable of, it was enough to invalidate a core aspect of a sapient being. And whatever his purpose may be, it is something that even the gods shudder to impede.”

  Ilphas could only stare in horror as he looked at the woman, trying to find an explanation. But all he could see was the woman’s glassy eyes. He had been present for three demon wars and had met a few chosen Otherworlders. Ilphas recalled one who looked at the victim of a Pleasure demon and said “The lights are on, but nobody’s home.” To this day, the elf still found the otherworldly colloquialism to be highly distasteful, but he could find no better description for what he was seeing.

  “I had never intended for things to go as far as they did, but even I could not have predicted this”, the Pontifex said solemnly, “But at least those conspirators listened to my advice and only used four assassins.”

  Ilphas recoiled in shock at his leader’s sudden confession. For a man to speak so easily of treachery…

  “Do not look at me so incredulously, High Priest”, he said in response to the unspoken deluge of questions and accusations, “Nothing happens within my faith that I am unaware of. Let alone in the very holy city devoted to said faith. Originally, the plan was for them to send a dozen Bombardiers to attack the house while Thatch slept. Convincing them of a more covert and direct attempt was a better way of allowing them their chance while giving me the perfect excuse to see if the Unknown Hero would expose any latent ability.”

  Taking a final look at the woman in the cell, the Pontifex swept around and called out, “Come! I have an idea for what must be done.”

  It was always the small moments that led to decisions which set in motion events that shake the earth. Soon, the earth would quake as never before.