Liquid night poured from my flesh, a tide of living shadow that drank the light around me. My skin vanished from the Lifegiver's judging gaze, sheltered within the Sisters' embrace. New breath filled my lungs—cold, sharp, and laced with power. My vision sharpened until every splinter of ruin stood in brutal clarity. My legs steadied, my stance solidified. My heart slowed to a measured, determined rhythm.
Yet with the gift came the cost. Every wound I had ever borne—every scar, every broken bone, every moment of failure—returned to me not as memory, but as fresh sensation. The Sisters gave me endurance, yes, but they made me feel the price of survival in exacting detail. As the world grew clearer, so did my pain.
Through the shifting darkness of my Shroud, I could distinguish the faces of every soul watching me. Soldiers who had regained their footing stared in awe, while others could not tear their eyes from what writhed at the crater's heart. Even without looking, I felt it—the Hierophant's pulse, steady and unrelenting, washing over me again and again. Each wave made my Shroud sway and whip like a banner in a gale. Time was slipping faster than I had hoped. The Hierophant's body was not trained enough for this power, and it was already breaking beneath the weight of divinity.
The ground under him had begun to liquefy, each pulse of brilliance slamming into the earth and driving it lower. Yet the light held him fast, suspending him midair as though pinned on invisible hooks. His limbs bent and flexed at unnatural angles, joints popping with sharp reports that wove counterpoint to his laughter. That laughter never ceased—only grew louder, more frantic, a sound that mingled bliss and helplessness like blood spilling into clear water.
Like lightning striking fallen logs came the sound of his bones snapping, his limbs arranging themselves into a terrible, sacred geometry. His head blurred with frantic motion, bobbing and twisting as though he were trying to unscrew it from his shoulders—a vain attempt to halt his own unraveling.
Each step that closed our distance grew heavier than the last. Even beneath my Shroud I felt the pressure and heat building, driving against me, trying to force me back. The darkness faltered with each stride, but like a gust feeding a wildfire it always flared again, fiercer, lending me strength. The ground was less determined than I—dust and gravel shook loose, skittering away from the Hierophant's merciless existence, as did the Legionaries who scrambled, desperate to escape yet another dire fate.
The earth around him sank into a widening crater, yet he remained fixed in place, rising with it until he hung at the height of two men. The pressure of his radiance had become a sound of its own, pushing and dragging the air in waves, like a thunderstorm gathering on the horizon.
Streams of luminous blood poured from his wounds, each pulse forcing more through his glowing veins. The droplets fell in steady trails, their radiance fading as they left him, each one dying before striking the ground. Even knowing what must be done, I could not endure the sight without dread.
As he rose upright, a corona flared around him, encircling his spasming body—a grotesque mimicry of the Lifegiver's form. I raised my hand to shield my eyes, the Shroud twisting the brilliance until it seared more fiercely than my natural sight could bear. Yet through the glare I still discerned his form within the luminous ring. His head had stilled. From his ebony eyes spilled porcelain tears, tracing his charred skin in quicksilver trails. His mouth, though, did not rest—stretching and contracting beyond the limits of flesh, jaw unhinged into a laughter that mocked the shape of man.
By now, fifty beats had passed through my heart. I did not have many left to spend. I slid the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand, its claw pressed against my palm. Steel would make no difference here—my sword was useless. He had to be contained.
The laughter did not end—no, it receded, contracting into the distance until it seemed to echo from the height of mountains. I could still hear it, thin and immense all at once. Then the earth convulsed in a fierce tremor, shaking everything that clung to its surface. Soldiers collapsed to the ground, and from afar came the maddened thunder of hooves. Even the walls—those meant to be ours by now—shuddered and cracked beneath the strain.
Did Felix give the command without my signal? I wondered as I forced myself forward. Or had the trembling earth driven the stallions into a frenzy of their own?
The thought froze solid in my mind as the Hierophant began to speak.
His voice came as though from the domed hall of a great temple—grand, clear, unshaken.
"Rejoice, children, and you will see."
The corona around him pulsed with the cadence of his speech, each flare aligned to the rhythm of his words. His mouth, though, seemed to keep a life of its own, twisting and refusing to rest.
Forty beats remained in me.
His body hung in the air, rotating slowly on its axis until he faced both sides of the conflict. I saw only his back now. My chances seemed better—but it did not matter. Wherever Felix's riders were, wherever the Legion still stood, I had one task before all was wasted.
"The Light will welcome you back, children," the Hierophant intoned. It was no longer one voice but a choir, each layer steeped in a different emotion—joy, grief, fury, despair—all woven together into one unbearable sound.
His flesh was peeling away, burning and trailing in the tide of pressure he exuded. The stench of it struck me harder with every step. I was almost there. The Shroud still cloaked me, unyielding, but my body was not. I was nearing the edge of what I could endure, the Sisters' embrace cutting deeper with every heartbeat.
I was directly beneath him when the realization struck me. His body could not endure long enough to be contained. Gods, forgive me, I muttered. I had to Sever him.
"The Light is not... the Light is hollow,
Words, words, words—the children follow.
Prayers feed the shape, but the shape is yours,
empty and waiting behind closed doors.
I am not I... am I? I am—"
His jaw stretched wider, the last syllables collapsing into gibberish, a chorus of sounds no tongue was ever meant to form.
I leaped, carried on the Sisters' dark breath, further than mortal flesh could ever go.
Thirty beats.
I hooked my left arm around his twisted, broken limb. The instant I touched him, my Shroud recoiled, squirming away and leaving my armor and flesh bare. Heat blistered my skin, bubbling where we met, but I had no choice but to endure. The pain rippled through me in piercing jolts, each one a surge of holy fire that birthed nothing but grim resolve.
The Hierophant gave no sign that he even sensed me. To him, I was nothing—irrelevant within whatever fractured reality now consumed him. He hung taut in the air, suspended inside the eruption of his own body. From his jaws, stretched far beyond their natural shape, poured gurgles and voices without meaning. His neck had doubled its length, craning his head upward in a grotesque parody of prayer.
My right arm still held beneath the Shroud. I had to force through the agony and bring this to an end.
Twenty beats.
The claw of the ring bit into my palm, cutting even through the darkness that shielded me. With a final burst of loaned strength, I thrust my hand to the back of his neck.
The claw tore through light and ruined flesh alike. I carved quickly. Three strokes, jagged and true—the sigil of the Trinity. Around them I dragged a circle, closing it, binding the holy mark within the self. And last, the stroke that undid them all—a single line drawn across, sundering Gods from man. The Word was complete.
Severance.
Heat and light vanished at once. Two solid ivory pillars burst from the Hierophant's eyes—one end spearing upward into the sky, the other driving down through his pierced skull and into the earth, suspending him like a grisly banner high in the air. He was gone. Severed.
As his body went limp, my grip slipped and I braced for the fall. Ten heartbeats remained—enough to soften my landing, but not enough for any fight still to come.
In the silence left by the Hierophant's damnation, the thunder of hooves reached me clearly. Through the fog of war I could see them closing in. Beyond them, the Sisters let me glimpse the buzzing light of the last standing Amplifier, rising to power.
I wrestled with my body and mind as I fell, both pleading for release, to return to the Lifegiver. My consciousness clawed against my grasp. I had to remain. Felix was closing in, the breach of the walls imminent now, and I had to direct the effort.
Then twelve funeral bells rang again from the walls, and the sound eased my mind toward slipping free. The second volley was coming, and I had nothing left to give.