All the members of the church shouted in unison, their voices rising like a tide of fanatic devotion, brittle and echoing, cutting through the vast, hollow expanse of the cathedral. "Indeed, our God has provided for us once again." Each word reverberated as though the very walls themselves trembled in fear, absorbing their conviction like a sponge that had long forgotten mercy.
The two men dragged the trembling figures forward, their chains clinking in a rhythm that was almost musical in its cruelty. Every step resounded across the cold stone floor, a deliberate reminder that no mercy would follow them here. They reached the altar, shoving the victims before Aeron, whose presence radiated a peculiar mix of divine authority and malevolent glee.
"Apostle of Urfurous, we have brought the sacrifice," the man on the left said, black hair falling in harsh angles over his brown eyes. His armour gleamed unnaturally, catching the faint light of the cathedral, as he knelt, hands raised in exaggerated reverence, yet his posture carried the weight of executioners rather than worshippers.
"Have mercy!" the lady screamed, her voice raw, shredded by fear. It carried across the hall and seemed to curl into the shadows, only to be swallowed by the oppressive silence that followed.
"Aeron, what is the meaning of this!" Lucien bellowed, his voice sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade through silk. "Why do you trouble these innocents?"
Aeron turned, his face a mask of serenity clashing grotesquely with the carnage around him. That same smile, the one that seemed incapable of sin yet thrived in it, clung to his lips like a permanent stain.
"These people are responsible for the bloody massacre that happened in the market. Their misfortune has brought the anger of our God upon us," Aeron said, each word deliberate, slow, as if savouring the suffering it would unleash.
"What-" Veldra's voice trembled, but Lucien intervened, stepping forward like a shield made of fury.
"Are you even sure these innocents killed three hundred thousand people?" he demanded, his words slicing through Aeron's constructed holiness, defiant and raw.
"Yes indeed!" Aeron bellowed, arms flung high, as if trying to physically summon divine condemnation. "These people have nothing but false joy, they are poor, broken vessels without him, they beg, they spit, sleep, and walk on the ground our god made-"
"Shut up!" Lucien's voice tore through the chamber, cutting through the murmurs and gasps like a storm breaking a fragile dawn.
"How dare you accuse innocents! Do you even have any proof? A mother with nothing to cling to but her child, and you take that away from her because she has stepped on the ground? How dare you! You are a member of this church, and yet you act this way!" His words thundered with such intensity that the walls themselves seemed to shiver, vibrating with the weight of truth and outrage.
For a moment, the cathedral's oppressive silence fractured. Every head turned, eyes flickering from Aeron to Veldra. No words were needed; the attention of all shifted, drawn by a presence that was more felt than seen. Their eyes filled with an unmistakable glimmer of 'We have caught you.'
Veldra's body froze. For the first time, shock carved deep into his being, gnawing at every cell with icy precision. His usual reverence dimmed, flickering like a candle caught in a storm, and sorrow draped itself over his features.
Beautiful tears streamed down his face, transparent and profound. His void-black eyes, tinged with a formless hue of purple, glistened under the cathedral's dim illumination. The tears traced faint, silvery lines across his cheeks, delicate scars of grief etched by the weight of unthinkable cruelty.
"Wha-" Veldra stuttered, the sound catching in his throat like a broken breath. "How-" His lips trembled. "Whe-"
He fell silent.
"Why do they point their hands at you, Veldra?" Aeron asked. He shifted his full figure, turning completely toward him.
"I-"
"You what?" Aeron roared, the sound cracking through the hall like divine thunder. Then, abruptly, his voice softened, sinking into something far more terrifying. "What did you do?"
Veldra could not answer. The words refused to come, as if language itself had abandoned him. His mouth opened, his chest tightened, but nothing escaped. No matter how desperately he tried to force them out, the truth remained lodged deep within him, heavy and suffocating.
Why am I crying?
Why?
Is it because of my flaw?
Why?
Is it because of my prayer?
Why!
I killed three hundred thousand, so why do I feel guilty now?
I did not care then.
So why, on this earth, do I care now?
Is this my conscience… or has the madness left me?
Maybe.
That single thought settled like dust after a storm. Veldra accepted it, and with that acceptance, his consciousness steadied. The trembling eased. The tears slowed. He lifted his head, slowly, deliberately, and looked Aeron in the eyes.
"I killed them," Veldra murmured. His voice was quiet, almost fragile. It was not fear that guided his words, not even in a thousand years could Aeron inspire that in him. Perhaps it was his flaw stirring, or perhaps the part of him long buried had clawed its way back to the surface.
"You what-" Aeron staggered back a step, genuine shock tearing through his carefully constructed composure. "What do you mean, you killed them all?"
"I mean it," Veldra said again, his voice steadier now, stripped of hesitation. "I killed them all."
Aeron turned slowly toward Lucien, his expression twisting, searching for denial, for salvation.
"Is this true?" he asked.
"Yes," Lucien replied, turning his face away, unable or unwilling to witness what would follow.
A laugh burst from Aeron's mouth, sharp and uncontrolled. It echoed across the cathedral, reverberating off the walls, off the altar, off the bound innocents still kneeling on the stone. Tears streamed from his eyes as he laughed, a grotesque blend of mirth and revelation, as if something sacred had finally shattered inside him.
The laughter went on long enough to become uncomfortable, long enough to feel wrong. Then, abruptly, it stopped.
No hesitation followed. No lingering amusement. No doubt, no wavering, no flicker of mercy, no final thought.
Aeron's expression went blank. His voice was calm, flat, and absolute.
"Kill them."