Hatred of the Past

“What do you think you’re doing, Sky?”

Orion’s voice was low. It echoed through the vaulted chamber, not as a roar, but something heavier, touched by a dark cold cruelty. The bitterness came not from any feeling of betrayal, but rather from secret prayers in private, hoping he was wrong, and that this day would never come.

Sky raised her hand in a small, graceful motion. And instantly, the soldiers nodded their heads and lowered their weapons in unison, a rustle of bows and blades relaxing but not vanishing. They were still at the ready, held by the same stillness that wrapped itself around her.

She didn’t answer right away. Her violet eyes glanced over to the stained-glass windows high above, where fractured light spilled across the pews and painted the frozen scene in shards of color. For a moment, she looked small beneath the grandeur of it all.

Then her lips parted.

“Honestly…” she said, voice quiet, “I don’t know.”

She stepped closer. No one stopped her. She continued:

“I don’t know how long I’m supposed to live like this. To dwell in the dark. Barely alive. Letting it eat away at our souls until there’s nothing left but maggots and rot.”

Her eyes fell on him, no longer ethereal – but merely tired, exhausted.

“Sky…” Orion’s voice had softened by a note, barely perceptible.

But she pressed on.

“You think I’m doing this because I want a crown? A throne? You, of all people, should know.”

She turned, spinning slowly in the middle of the cathedral’s center aisle, her hands spread as if recalling some fabled memory.

“Do you remember, Orion?” she asked. “The Ruins of Thailor? The sapphire fields near Oshen’s Rise? The temple where the stars came down and danced on the water?”

Emi glanced between them, heart pounding. She could feel it in the way Sky spoke, in the places she named. They were vaguely familiar to her, and she knew then that these must be names that the book she read had also talked about. A fairy tale made real.

“We were so young,” Sky went on. “You and me. O’ brave Chosen One, and the girl who refused to stay behind. We thought the world could be anything. We could be anything. And for a while… we almost were.”

She stopped spinning.

Her eyes locked on his again. Seeing those unblinking black eyes, unable to tell whether he had softened – or if these were dead eyes, long devoid of any sensation.

“I loved you, Orion. And maybe – I always will.”

Silence followed. Long enough that Emi’s chest tightened. She hated the way Sky said it – not because it wasn’t true, but because it was. Because Sky wasn’t being cruel. She was simply being honest.

But Sky’s voice turned hard again, her hands clenching.

“But better the clutch of death than another day in the shadows. I will not stand still while this kingdom of haunted statues pretends it’s alive. I will not kneel and call this half-life salvation.”

The flicker of rebellion had caught fire behind her eyes.

“And if you won’t bring us back – may God deal with all of us.”

The silence after Sky’s last words did not linger for long.

Instantly broken.

As a low hum began to rise from Orion’s chest, deep and unnatural. Not a sound so much as a vibration – the sound of the war drums.

Like the groaning of the earth before it splits. His eyes glowed faintly, not just with light, but consumed by void. And the air itself grew heavy, trembling under the weight of something ancient returning.

His magicks. They were coming back.

Black aura began to ooze from his form, slow and creeping at first, like spilled ink on holy ground. It slithered down his arms, pooled at his feet, then rose, twisting upward into long, terrible tendrils that licked the air like tongues of living shadow. The temperature dropped. Candles flickered violently. And then came the screams.

The soldiers didn’t even have time to react.

The black tendrils struck with unholy precision, grabbing limbs, crushing bones. From beneath the marble floor, ghostly hands emerged. Skeletal grips of slaved minions – translucent, clawed fingers clawing up from the depths of some forgotten place. They grabbed ankles, wrists, faces, instantly dragging the soldiers down further and further into unseen horrors.

Some begged for mercy. Others screamed prayers.

But all vanished beneath the black tide, choking on their own blood.

Emi shielded her eyes, trembling, standing frozen behind him. She had seen Orion fight. She had seen him protect. She had even seen him judge. But this – was the pinnacle.

The peak of this mountain of power – and cruelty.

And it was a massacre.

Despite the carnage, Orion was deliberate. Not a drop of blood stained the altar. Not a single bone cracked upon the holy steps. He would not desecrate this place of worship.

But his mercy had run out.

When the last scream faded, when the smoke of vanishing souls curled up to the high heavenly ceiling – only one remained now.

Sky stood against the far wall, her back to the great gate of the church, now sealed shut behind her. Her sword was still sheathed. Her hands, empty. And her violet eyes – once so full of will – were wide with something else now.

Mortal fear.

And yet, beneath that layer… was also sadness.

And even deeper inside – was a speck of acceptance.

She did not run. She did not plead. She simply looked at him, hair wild around her face, cloak billowing in the cold, death-stained wind that lingered even now that the carnage was over.

Orion stepped forward.

The mace unfurled from his side with a quiet click. The long metal handle sliding out with mechanical precision, the head expanding like a blooming iron flower – square and brutal, built not to cut, but to crush. It caught the light of the stained glass and twisted it, casting long, warped shadows across the marble floor.

Emi had never seen him use it like this.

She had seen it in glimpses, in dreams, in stories from other people’s mouths. She had seen the legends of the Dark Lord’s wrath, the whispered horrors of those around warning her of what Orion truly was. But here, now – actually standing witness in person, not as rumors or myths, but real, in his hands, only a few steps away.

She could barely breathe.

She knew that the mace carried history, soaked in the blood of tyrants and innocents alike, sealed into the black iron. And the one who held it had now fully revealed himself.

She saw it in his posture, though short and lean – he was absolutely gigantic.

Seeing all this – she simply could not let this happen.

“STOP!” she cried.

Her voice rang through the cathedral like a struck bell. She ran forward, tears stinging her eyes, arms outstretched, throwing herself between them – between him and Sky, as if her small body could stop this.

She grabbed at his arm, and his skin was ice cold.

But the shadows boiling his skin recoiled ever so slightly, oozing in and out.

And yet… Orion did not stop.

He only looked down at her – those endless black eyes meeting hers. There was no cruelty in them. No anger. Just the same quiet certainty he had always carried. It was as if he was saying ‘stay out of this.’ Firmly telling her that this was something that must be done.

“Please…” Emi whispered, clinging tighter, “Please, she was your friend…”

Her words broke.

Tears streamed freely now, falling onto his arm, onto the black metal of the mace. She felt his roaring pulse, steady and unmoving, but also rumbling with unknown energies.

She saw the pain hiding behind the steel. But it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.

And Orion moved.

He stepped forward past her grasp, gently pulling himself from her hands as if separating a thread from a tapestry.

Emi collapsed to her knees, unable to look and at the same time – unable to look away.

Sky stood still, proud and afraid, but unflinching.

And then, with a single, fluid motion, he brought the mace down.

A thunderous crack.

Sky fell.

No scream. No struggle.

Just silence.

A silence that devoured everything.

Emi choked on a sob, echoing throughout the vast cathedral’s hollow. And Orion stood above Sky’s body – just flesh now.

Emi remained kneeling, her body trembling, face wet with tears. She couldn’t bring herself to move at first. The weight of what had just happened – what he had just done – it clung to her like a thousand iron chains.

Orion turned around, letting the mace fold back into its compact form. There was no satisfaction on his face. No remorse, either. Only stillness. Like a monument of stone.

Emi rose slowly, her legs shaking. Her voice came out raw.

“Why?”

Orion didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her.

She stepped closer, fists clenched.

“Why did you have to do that? She didn’t fight back. She didn’t even raise her hand.”

Still no reply.

“Look at me!” she cried. Something in Emi cracked. Her voice rose, strained by anger and heartbreak. “Is that it? Anyone who disagrees with you – they just die? Even if they were your friend? Even if they loved you?”

His shoulders stiffened, barely, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

“You didn’t have to kill her. You chose to. I begged you to stop, but you still did it!”

Orion turned slightly, eyes shadowed by a vague fog. He said:

“She would have burned everything.”

“And you just did!” Emi snapped, stepping forward, striking his chest with both her fists. “There is no way this is the first time she acted like this. She must’ve told you of her pains before, your people’s pains. Did you listen, Orion? Did you? This place was supposed to be sacred! What even are you?”

She hit him again. And again. He didn’t flinch.

“I can’t take this. I can’t take you!” Her fists fell to her sides, defeated. Her chest heaved. “Why do I even care about you so much?!”

That made him freeze.

Slowly, Orion looked at her, eyes widening slightly. The storm in them cracked for just a moment – something vulnerable flickering behind that veil of shadow and cold.

“What... are you saying?” he asked quietly.

Emi’s voice trembled, but not from fear this time. From something deeper.

“Don’t you get it?” she said, arms shaking, heart splitting at the seams. “I love you, Orion. Why can’t you see that?”

The words echoed, hanging there in the air like something forbidden.

Orion’s mouth opened slightly. But nothing came out. He turned his head, as if searching the room for an answer that wouldn’t come. As if maybe it had been hiding somewhere behind the stained-glass windows, or buried beneath the altar, under the table. But there was only silence.

A very long silence.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely more than a breath.

“You… don’t deserve someone like me.”

In his eyes, he saw what it was she was seeing in him, someone fallen. He asked himself, how long had he been doing this? Where did the old days go? When he was young and innocent – and good.

His convictions through journeys and adventures never wavered, he never doubted what it was he had to do, even when he questioned what was right from wrong and what was good and evil.

And it was only now did the full realization of what he had become finally hit him with the full force of quiet judgment. Or perhaps this was something he already knew deep down but was too prideful and stubborn to admit – that all that he had done:

Was wrong.

What he said to her was a reflection of this – hatred.

Hatred of himself. Even during the years and years of bathing in the dark magicks – he had no love for himself.

So how could someone like her love him?

That was what he wanted to tell her.

But that was not what she heard. That was not what she got from his statement.

Rather what she got – was a knife to the chest.

Emi’s face crumpled, the confession still raw in her throat. Her lips trembled.

“Okay…” she whispered. Her hands balled into trembling fists. “Okay.”

And before he could say anything else – before she could break even further – she turned and ran.

The great cathedral doors groaned open, letting in the pale light of the cold world outside.

And then she was gone.

And Orion… was left alone.