A Sacrifice, Spoiled

They say monsters don’t know they’re monsters.

But the moment you start wondering whether you might be one, you’re already halfway there.

And the ones who never ask… are killing freely under the Church’s blessing.

According to them, every human soul entered the world with a divine blessing. Those born without one were called Nullborn. Empty vessels poisoned in the womb with demi-human taint, corrupting consecrated ground as we walked. So naturally, extermination becomes salvation. There is a big difference when you call a fire ‘righteous.’

The chains bit into my wrists with every jolt of the wagon. It was strangely comforting. Iron never told you it was hurting for your own good.

I looked at the Life Mage sitting across from me. Pale skin, thinning hair and bloodshot eyes. The runes on the dagger hanging from his waist pulsed with blue ghostlight in time with each of his slow, greedy breaths.

He saw me staring and chuckled to himself. “Nullborn,” he rasped. “You’ll make a fine catalyst. You should be thankful that you can die in servitude to the Seven Holy Protectors.”

“Only if you can last long enough. You look like a corpse in human skin.”

He yanked the chain between us and watched me wince.

I wasn't afraid. Fear had been burned out of me with the rest of my village. Part of me wished that my last conversation wouldn’t be with a corpse that hadn’t realized it was dead.

The wagon rolled on through the forest with all of the joy that went along with a crusade. Men with very clean armor are all too eager to return home with dirty hands and pockets full of the spoils of war. This time it was elves.

The Church said they discovered the tribe three weeks ago.

Discovered. As if they hadn’t been living there until the Imperial Order decided to expand the Church’s kingdom.

The wagon jumped when we hit something in the road and the Life Mage finally looked alert. “You should pray,” he said.

“To which one? There are seven,” I reminded him. “I’d hate to offend six of them in my final moments.”

He pursed his lips as his hand drifted towards the dagger. Before he could decide whether blasphemy was worth using his catalyst early, the wagon creaked to a halt.

The wind had stopped. Even the leaves above us were still.

The Paladins watched the road. The horses watched the trees.

I trusted the horses.

A piercing whistle replaced the silence.

Arrows rained down from the trees. They struck the front of the caravan first. They bounced off the Paladins’ armor creating a melodic patter. It would have been enjoyable, had it not been for the shrieking horses that were falling one by one.

The Church’s hubris led them to armor the killers and leave the beasts bare, assuming nobody would target what couldn’t fight back. What they overlooked was that anyone willing to attack the Imperial Order wasn't worried about survivors. Animal or otherwise.

“Barrier,” someone shouted from the front. A Paladin near the center raised his shield and the sky around the caravan erupted in gold. The second volley struck the Aegis Shield and scattered in flashes of gold. The barrier dimmed between impacts, recovering almost immediately.

Almost.

A bit too late for the horses.

The Life Mage scrambled to his feet, blade in hand. He opened the iron prison gate and stepped out as the guards hurried into formation.

The forest was now alive with movement.

Shadows darted between trunks. Flashes of paint on bodies. Braided hair. Feathers stitched to leather armor.

The elves didn’t fight like soldiers. Calling them cowards would have been wrong too. They fought as though the forest itself were another weapon.

The convoy was surrounded.

The mage stood over one of the horses that was thrashing on the ground. I saw the dagger rise into the air, then I heard the wet tear of flesh and the dying horse's panic.

The Paladin at the center barked orders, voice wavering in the chaos.

“Hold formation! They are faithless bea—”

A spear made of light burst through his breastplate, exploding into a blinding flash.

The Aegis Shield flickered once, then shattered.

Another volley of arrows descended, then the elves surged forward. One slipped beneath a Paladin’s swing and dropped him with a hooked blade. A ceramic ball shattered nearby, filling the road with choking smoke.

The Life Mage panicked.

He frantically drove the blade into the dying horse again, runes flaring as they touched flesh and drank blood. The animal convulsed, shrieking as its life was siphoned into him. The color returned to the mage's skin as the stolen stamina flowed in. He lifted his head with a smile too wide and eyes flaring a sickly blue.

A Church-sanctioned monster.

“Back!” he screamed. “Back, damn you!”

An arrow hit him right between the eyes.

He dropped instantly.

The wagon began to tilt as another horse fell. I wrapped the chain around my arm and planted both feet against the bench waiting for gravity.

I yanked as the wagon frame hit the ground. The chains ripped free from the splintered wood.

Free from one death and given another.

A sword lay next to a Paladin’s body. I picked it up. The flamberge was nearly as long as I was. I would have admired the beauty of the rippling blade, if I could have lifted it.

This was a two-handed weapon not designed for a shackled, malnourished heretic.

I dragged it up anyway. Should at least be able to take one of these bastards down with me.

A Cleric stood in front of me, healing a Paladin fighting the elves. Each gash that was open, closed moments later.

The Cleric had his back turned to me. Killing him with the flamberge was unlikely. Making him stop healing was not. I planted my feet and dragged the rippling blade across the road. Steel shrieked against stone.

The Cleric turned, mace already rising.

Someone yanked me backward. The blow struck an elf’s shield, and a second elf buried an ax in the Cleric’s neck.

The wounded Paladin had blood dripping from his polished armor and an elf at his feet.

This would be as good a time as any to make a run for it. I rose to my feet using the sword as support.

An elf appeared from between the trees. I tried raising the flamberge.

He moved past me and stopped at my back. Others followed, forming a loose ring around me and turning outward to guard the perimeter. A high, wavering call rose among them, answered by deeper cries until the sounds rolled around the circle. This was different from the fury of the attack. It sounded like celebration.

Then a girl stepped through.

Her height nearly fooled me. She barely reached past my chest. She was petite, with nothing imposing about her frame. But her eyes had a tiredness to them that only comes with responsibility and age.

Her hair was braided tight, and from the back of her head four long black feathers fanned out. It looked too ceremonial to be just decoration.

She wore very little in terms of armor, as if the forest was meant to shield her. Painted symbols crossed the bare skin between a fitted leather wrap and a narrow loincloth resting low on her hips. Her chest was small, her waist smaller, and the undergarments underneath that rode high on her waist made the distinction between ceremonial dress and deliberate distraction feel uncertain.

A bird skull rested on one shoulder, bound there with braided leather. A sun and moon emblem had been carved into the wrap over her sternum. She looked ready for a ritual, yet the fight seemed to move around her.

In her hands was a wooden staff twisting into a crescent shape near the top. An orange crystal ball sat in the middle.

She stood before me with too much certainty. Too calm for a battlefield and far too lightly dressed for me to pretend I had not noticed.

That irritated me almost as much as the staff pointed in my direction.

One thing was clear. She had too much power for anyone the Church would ever allow to live.

She locked eyes with me and her pupils widened. One eye sparkled blue, the other orange.

“Redborn,” she said.

I tightened my grip on the flamberge.

“Redborn? Is that bastard in elvish?”

She tilted her head slightly and lowered her staff. The crescent tip glowed a soft yellow-orange.