Chapter 37: "The Rise of a Broken Kingdom"

Inside its walls, the city stretched into intricate buildings laden with detail, with a severe and monumental architecture, full of arches, towers, and pinnacles overlapping like a swarm of stone.

I sneaked inside in search of the Pit of the Condemned, the headquarters of the Order of the Infected, the last bastion of Xeroth, Lord of the Flagellum.

Asking for their help disgusts me; living off others’ pity is not something worthy of a Son of Silence. That’s why I’ll make them beg for my help.

Sliding through sewers, tunnels, and catacombs, I managed to reach the Pit.

All these places were wet thanks to the perpetual tempest that scoured them: the people of Neryuth do not know sunlight.

The bandits shot me murderous looks, disgusted by my presence: they were not tolerant of outlaws.

I’ll show them what the artifact their God died defending is capable of.

I tore a torch from its place in a poor market and lit it with another one. Carefully, I watched how the flame ate the wood.

I must remember its flame, its shine, its birth.

I took it outside, where the droplets asphyxiated the light. I watched it die without leaving ashes.

I saw your origin and thus your end, little flame. That’s why your life now belongs to me, because I’m the master of your story.

I let the Feather manifest its brilliant light and its absolute darkness. Then, my mind melted with the essence of the flame. The Silence hushed its grief and, in that moment, allowed me to alter its fate.

Allow me, my subject, to give you a better existence, one in which you can illuminate even the most hidden gaps of this city. If that does not satisfy you, then let me feed you with the hopes of humans.

The torch lit again under the rain. This time, neither the force of the wind, nor the humidity of the air, nor the cold or water would extinguish it.

I threw it into the flooded Pit. In its fall, it lit the interior. Hundreds of Knights awaited the return of their God, so they could carry out the Sacrifice and the Subjugation.

“Their faith is built on mutilation. Every devotee substitutes their organs for fragments of the Plague, and the worth of the offering is measured by what has been relinquished: the greater the loss, the greater the devotion your God recognizes.

“But if your deity dies, the Plague that supports you withers, rotting until shredding what’s left of your bodies.”

“Then, what has been sacrificed never returns: what was once a heart, lungs, or guts is offered to the void.”

So Zenith not only killed the Lord of Flagellum, but along with his fall his subjects are dying. A whole Order slowly dies because of her whims.

The fire began to consume the stone structures, the rooms, the halls, the walls of the chasm, increasing its size without mercy.

It feeds on that which should never burn and does not extinguish under the rain. That is why the Feather inspires so much fear: it defies the most sacred law of this universe, the very essence of nature.

The Knights fled in desperation, unable to fight against a flame that upended their understanding of the world.

The last memory of their God was being destroyed. They had lost their god, their element, and now their religious identity would be consumed.

People pressed around me, watching in astonishment as the fire devoured the stone. If it were not stopped, it would finish Neryuth: not even the Gods would be able to quell its heat.

The Knights shouted euphoric orders, giving instructions on how to prevent it from spreading and proclaiming the evacuation plan. I merely watched: the city plunged into uncontrollable chaos.

They had never seen a fire that resisted the rain. They feared for their lives, felt terror, and fled in panic because my power shattered reason.

I raised the artifact and, with it, rewrote the history of the flame once more: I returned it to its humblest origins and restored everything that had been razed in Neryuth.

“I hold in my hands the Feather of the Late Beginning, and with it I have defied the eternal storm that devastated Neryuth for centuries. I bring with me the weapon that will put an end to the war.”

A solemn Knight of the Plague appeared, clad in black armor with violet streaks, corroded by years of battle.

Through the fissures in his breastplate I can see how the Plague that composed him is abandoning his body. He is the one who has given the most organs to his God: he is the commander of this Order, its most fervent servant.

“You burned Xeroth’s home. That is an affront that transcends your life. Why should we let you live?”

“Because with me they will be able to avenge their God. Since he died, they have become the shadow of what they once were. Or can you deny it? How are your soldiers?”

Their emaciated bodies could barely stay upright; their defeated faces had succumbed to the pain brought on by the flesh they had sacrificed.

Their faith has become a torment. It is the immutable rule: when the Gods falter, the mortals who worshipped them fall with them.

The souls began to vibrate within me, without manifesting themselves.

“Despite having done it out of devotion, Xeroth’s death has brought them nothing but suffering.” Said the youngest soul.

“That is what happens when you place your trust in the Gods: you get involved with powers that exceed mortality.”

“And the body cannot withstand it. Therefore, you must free Aurethys from its disgrace. Kill Zenith.” Explained the oldest.

Do not doubt for a second that I will fail in my mission. After all, I have been blessed by the Silence.

“If you do not accept my goodwill, let me show you what will happen to your beloved nation.” My words thundered in the air like a silent clap, resonating in the bones of all who were present.

At that instant, the fire was reborn, but this time it had swept Neryuth completely. We all found ourselves inside its flames, unable to do anything about it.

I did not end the fire; I only halted it. As we spoke, its story continued to be written. I used the Feather to make it tangible once more.

The civilians felt a searing heat running through their bodies. Resistance and courage mattered little: everyone experienced a second of unbearable burning that reminded them of the pain of the inevitable — the vision of a devastated future.

Although I am also being incinerated, I will remain steadfast. How do I intend to kill Zenith if I cannot endure this torture? It is unworthy of a Son of the Silence.

Their eyes opened to a world that existed in another tale but that now summoned them. The city wept at their feet: cries of desperation and lament fused with my rage.

“Enough,” I said, rewriting the fire’s past so that it would be extinguished once and for all.

Throughout my life I was manipulated to do what others wanted: this time, it will be different. I will be the one to use them; I am the one who holds control, the nature itself.

“I have seen the future. With Zenith dead, they will recover the parts they gave to Xeroth: the Plague. With it, their people will lift their sentence.” I lied, shrewdly.

The Knights and citizens looked at me with distrust, terrified. They were stunned by what they had witnessed: in a single instant they understood their insignificance. To me, their lives were nothing more than a game.

That’s it, that’s the reaction I expected. Suffer, despair, bow before me.

Then fear and obedience intertwined, and even those who doubted felt something ignite within them — a fire they could not put out.

Every thought of resistance was consumed by the vision of inevitable vengeance and, in a fleeting burst, they understood that nothing, no one, could stop it.

“We accept your proposal; you are not our enemy, but our hope.” Said the commander with a trembling but determined voice.

Absolute silence was replaced by endless shouts and celebrations. The Knights leaped on top of one another, embracing each other with fury: they cheered my arrival.

They changed their minds in a second. Are we humans so frail? Is this what the Gods feel when dealing with us? Superiority, contempt, and a certainty of absolute power.

The bandits and thieves took the opportunity to do the same, though in the process they stole artifacts and the jewels hidden in their pockets.

“You have given them the light, the gleam that change is approaching on the horizon.”

“Finally they will be freed: their God will return to his former glory.”

“Faith, the Plague, is what allows them to live. Once Zenith took it from them, she condemned them. Now, that torment can end thanks to you.”

My presence meant their salvation.

However, for the inhabitants of Aurethys, my arrival will mean their ruin.