One ring of the bell and the crowd fell silent. The entirety of Eisenrahm had gathered for the midnight mass. All wore their prayer robes, grey cloaks with hoods pulled over the heads. When worshiping Harras, all men and women became one, blood and nobility losing their meaning. The only ones that were allowed to show their faces were the ones that had abandoned everything except their devotion to Him.
Despite the many deaths, families losing their fathers and sons, the Midnight Mass was still taking place. The Warpriest refused to wait even a day, claiming that a tragedy required the immediate prayer to Harras, regaining his favor. One could tell whose family had lost somebody, their hooded heads bowed, struggling with tears. Though, several families didn't take the loss that hard, appearing relieved. Spoke volumes of the departed's character.
While no one had confronted him yet, Liron knew it would come. If not tonight, then tomorrow. Who else could have been responsible but him? Kasper Lockram? Heir to the Nordland, entrusted to rule these lands for the Empire and the Arist family? At least, Liron's family was happy for his survival. His mother had embraced him in a fierce bear hug, showering him in kisses. Emma did much the same, but she had also spat vile curses at him for going. His father appeared happy, too. Proud even, though reluctant to show it.
Liron had wanted not to come, staying at home with Emma, but their parents had argued him out of it. That Emma wouldn't go was already scandalous in itself. Liron not coming, too, after the hunt would be disastrous. Just another piece of evidence to solidify the claim that he couldn't be trusted and was of foul blood. One could think that with their identities hidden, no one would notice, but they all know better. This town whispered, having eyes and ears everywhere. What else could they do in such a place than gossip?
The two Faithful raised their heads, their lights filling the night sky. The two giants stood at either side of the platform. On the stage itself, the Warpriest took the crowd in, his hands on the podium in front of him. A copy of the holy scripture lay open in front of him. Four members of the procession kneeled behind him, two to his left and two to his right.
It was the highest honor to be on the platform as the midnight mass. Such a blessing had to be repaid, the four whipping themselves as they murmured their prayers. They had blindfolds on. The only piece of fabric they were allowed. Besides that, they were all naked, covered in dirt, blood, and the first marks of the cold gnawing at their bodies.
"Dear people of Eisenrahm," the Warpriest said. He was an older man, having stayed behind for the hunt. "It fills my heart with joy to see you here. The righteous and pious children of our Father. It also fills me with great pride to know Kasper Lockram among us, a cousin to Harras's Scions themselves."
Even a member of a Sacred House wasn't exempt from partaking in anonymity, having ditched his royal clothing and name to join the prayer and Bliss.
"We have gathered here tonight to celebrate the glory of Harras and His eternal wisdom," the Warpriest continued. "He and His love saved us from the endless horde of the Qilesh. And He gives us the strength to keep fighting, so we shall free the True Dawn from their grasp. The sun will rise again."
The gathered repeated the last part, a common prayer.
"But our gathering is shadowed by tragedy. We have lost many good men, falling victim to Drom and his brood. Our Father's fallen brother is a being of malice and hate. He only seeks to destroy and take. It is our duty to stand against him in our Father's name. Shed your tears for the dead but rejoice as they died heroes. They died with Harras's love on their side, becoming His brave soldiers who fought against evil without doubt and fear."
Liron lowered his hood. From what he had seen and heard, those men died alone in pain. Not much of Harras's love to be found. Liron shook his head, ignoring these heretical thoughts. Giving in to them, he would be one step closer to embrace Drom himself.
"So we will pray. To Him and all His blessings. And we will pray to His Scions, who rule us with dignity and love. Our dear emperor, Augustus, fourth of his name, and his forebearer, Arist, the one fathering this divine family. As he once drank Harras's blood from a cup, so shall you drink from the holy cup, too, and be blessed with His favor."
The Warpriest held a cup in both his hands. Of course, this wasn't the original one, but one touched by a member of the Michon family, the Sacred House closest to the Arist family. The cup was one of the primary symbols of the Empire, the object that helped five mortal men to become Harras's chosen ones.
"But our Father's love is a boon that has to be earned. And His wrath can smite down every heretic that dares to rebel against Him and His teachings. And for this, He has chosen us, His loyal followers. We are His tools, and we will fulfill His justice."
The Warpriest put the cup down on the podium, turning the page in the holy scripture. "Harras created the human heart to receive His boundless love. But He also gifted us with the strength to fight against the wicked. And strength, dear people of Eisenrahm, does not come solely from the vigor to strike down His enemies. No, it comes from the will to battle against the dark and not letting it win.
"For this, He made the heart of man fallible. Only if evil can take root in us can we truly fight it and gain the strength to win. But with this, some of us will fall. Some of us will fall to the heathens and traitors hiding in Sannara, where the holy war is fought every day. Where they try to slay our last hope of salvation and claim the throne of the Empire for themselves."
People nodded to that, whispers of agreement spreading.
"Others will listen to the poisoned words of Drom, the Dread Raven. They will believe him and become more beast than man. They will deteriorate like Drom did himself, forcing his brother, our Father, to fight against him. And like Harras did before, we have to punish those who have fallen so their weakness cannot corrupt those that are still standing."
The Warpriest waved his hand, and two soldiers climbed the stage, dragging a man with them. Like the four people, he was naked, but he was well nourished. While covered in bruises and dirt, his flawless skin shone through. The soldiers dropped him in front of the Warpriest, the naked man trembling from the cold and fear. This was a man not used to any true hardship and bodily harm. The crowd cheered, knowing this man to be of noble blood.
"Harras's love sees nothing but our heart and its worth. He wants to adore us all. But as in His love, in front of His justice, we are all the same. All men and women of sin and shame."
"N… no!" the accused cried. "It wasn't my fault! I… I did nothing wrong! Please, pastor, you know the truth! It was von Freudhaus! He…"
"You dare insult your superiors!" the Warpriest roared. Liron's skin crawled from the sheer force of the pastor's voice. Such fury and passion. "After all this, you still don't know your place, heretic!"
The man struggled for words, crawling on his fours to the Warpriest, begging. "Please, you have to listen to me!" he said, reaching out to the pastor. "He is not the man he cl…"
The Warpriest kicked the accused in the face, sending him to the ground again. As he lay there, groaning, the pastor spat down on his face. The crowd cheered, celebrating watching the humiliation of the man once so high above them.
"Dear people of Eisenrahm," the Warpriest said, "this pathetic worm has fallen to Drom's lies completely. Harras's light cannot reach him anymore. I will not soil your souls with his crimes and baseless accusations, but let it be known that for such insolence and hubris there can only be one punishment!"
A roar echoed the Warpriest's speech. "Only one punishment to cleanse this heretic's blackened heart so he might feel Harras's embrace in death. A mercy our Father gives us all."
The Warpriest turned to the accused, glaring at him. There was no mercy to be found. "On your knees, Sinner."
With that, the crowd went savage, all throwing their hands into the air. The man held his broken nose, shrinking underneath the reaction. He had never known such hate for himself and glee for his suffering. As the pastor made a step towards him, the accused crawled backwards, shrieking. "Please, anything but this! I have not lied! I have always served! I am of higher birth! Yo… you can't… you just can't!"
His words proved useless, the Warpriest nodding for the soldiers. They grabbed the guilty by his neck, dragging him upwards until he was kneeling. The man fought the entire time, raging against their hold, sobbing. But a life of luxury hadn't gifted him vigor, helpless underneath the trained hands of the soldiers.
"Oh, Harras," the Warpriest said, raising his right hand, "hear us, your humble children. One of us has fallen to the Dread Raven. Let his soul be cleansed by servitude and let him become your puppet. Let him fight and die for your glory so the True Dawn will be freed. The sun will rise again."
Ever so slowly, the Warpriest lowered his hand towards the guilty. The soldiers pressed his face upwards, forcing him to look up towards the thumb coming closer inch by inch. He cried something, his last words drowned in his tears. As the pastor's finger touched the guilty's forehead, his demeanor changed.
All fear gone, his eyes and mouth wide open. A primal grunt made it out of his throat, sounding like he suffocated. With that, golden veins spread from underneath the Warpriest's thumb, multiplying as they conquer the guilty's skin. As they reached his toes, holy light shone out of his eyes, burning them away from the inside.
He screamed, the pain the cost to regain Harras's love. But the worst part was still ahead of him. The Warpriest stepped aside, not wanting to dirty his robes. The guilty collapsed on his fours, his eyes gone, nothing but scorched sockets. He retched, the golden veins pushing the holy light into his body, cleansing all that made him human. As his guts had been liquified enough, he vomited them out, gory pulp splashing on the stage. It took him a full minute before he had thrown it all up. And with that, a new Sinner was born.
Trembling at first, the Sinner climbed back on its legs. Its skin had turned completely white, the golden veins having lost their shine. Its genitals had dissolved, too, falling off him as he stood up. His hair remained for now, but it would lose it over the coming days. With its eyeless sight, it stared at them, having a witless expression. Like a child puzzled by something it had never encountered before.
The Warpriest walked around the bloody pulp, pulling the Sinner close to him. Not close enough to touch him, though. "Rejoice! His soul is united with Harras! He will fight for Him in Sannara, repenting by bringing death to those deserving of it!"
The people raised their fists, cheering. Liron had only glimpsed at it. He had cried the first time he watched somebody be turned into a Sinner. The second time, he had thrown up. His father made him watch there after, telling him he needed to get used to it. This is what Harras wanted.
At least only three more people were turned into Sinners. Soldiers shoveled the pulp away, cleaning the stage. They put the gory mess into a wheelbarrow. It would be a shame to waste it. Thomas's dog would eat it.
The remaining accused were not as high-ranking as the first, but they all had worked in cities. They had lived lives of indulgence, and yet they turned to Drom. Liron tried to join the people around him, his parents, as they all celebrated the pastor turning the guilty into Sinners. But he didn't find the heart to enjoy it. He could barely watch it, his stomach twisting at the thought alone.
With the final Sinner being guided away, the Warpriest nodded at the Faithful. The giants had remained as silent as statues. In unison, they clapped, anticipated rumors rushing through the crowd. Even Liron smiled.
"My siblings in faith," the Warpriest addressed them. "We have delivered our Father's justice, and we have served His cause with devotion. And our beloved Father rewards the devoted."
The pastor raised his arms, his hands spread wide. While Liron had never seen them upclose, he knew the Warpriest's hands were tattooed, Harras's last words to Casar himself engraved into his body. They shone with the same golden light as the Faithful's heads and the Sinner's veins. The pastor took a deep breath, his eyes turning white. He rested his hands on the podium, reading the Holy Scripture.
"To all my dear children. To those I have raised with a loving yet unyielding hand, and to those I shall not meet until their appointed hour, when they have served me in full, hear me! In this darkest hour, I call upon thee. Stand united beneath the banner of my Scion,whom I have deemed worthy to lead thee, until the taint is slain and Ekon is set free."
The words soon melted into one another. They were rather plain-sounding for Harras, but Liron cared not, as did the rest. The four kneeling people behind the Warpriest were the first to experience it. They dropped their whips, uttering a praise for Harras. Their ecstasy spread to the one nearest to the stage and then through the entire crowd.
A warmth engulfed Liron, breathing it in. His skin trembled, his heartbeat relaxing. All his senses broadened. He could hear the surrounding colors, see His love connecting them all like strings, and smell the love they all had for their Father. Sorrow and guilt alike feel off him, with no weight bearing down on him. He felt lighter than a feather, the faintest gush of wind threatening to take him into the skies with them.
He laughed, praising Harras for His gift. The people around him did the same, thanking Him. The Bliss had taken full effect. Liron could barely believe this to be only a glimpse of what awaited them in death. But only if they served Him well. Only then would Harras allow them to be by His side.
This was something to live for. Liron brushed his face, the touch sending shivers to his very soul, reinvigorating it. Dieter would feel this by now, being with Harras for his service. And Liron could be there, too. One day.
This was something to die for.