Ethan was in a better prison cell this time. It appeared to be for political prisoners, and provided a level of dignity and privacy the other cells had lacked. He’d been held for only a few hours, staring out the single window at the night sky as he waited for judgment.

  A Runemaster had come at one point, though not Selina, obviously. Ethan understood enough about runes now to recognize that the man was reinforcing the hasty work that had been done by his captors. All of Ethan’s powers were locked out, magical red ink tying his mana in knots, and separating him from his Familiars. Oddly, only the bow and arrow of Apollo was left untouched.

  Eventually two knights arrived to drag him roughly to the Throne room. That he was being seen this late at night was a bad sign, but Ethan held little hope that the situation could be salvaged. He’d been caught by someone willing to damn herself to prove his guilt, and it was unlikely that anything Ethan could do would change the outcome at this point.

  Still, in spite of his exhaustion, and guilt, and misery, he considered what he might say to get out of this situation alive. His own thoughts haunted him as he did so, and the day felt impossibly long as he was brought forward. When the knights stopped before entering the Throne room to gag him, he nearly laughed. No talking my way out of this one.

  Finally they pulled him inside, where he was forced to his knees. He looked around the room with tired eyes, while trying to stretch the muscles in arms which had been manacled behind his back for hours. The king was there, of course, leaning on his throne with a familiar bored expression. The prince and princess were there as well, and Ellevaro was glaring at him as if he’d compromised her plans on purpose.

  Ethan turned his gaze to the right side of the room, where he saw a fuming High Priestess Abigail. Next to her was Maggie, who had her head bowed, appearing to be praying. Then there was Glenn, still in his bloody clothes from earlier, who was staring out at the night sky, his expression unreadable.

  He was still shackled, and a knight in the white armor of the Church had a gauntleted hand resting on the man’s shoulder. Ethan’s eyes widened slightly when he noticed the knight’s red cape and sheathed golden sword. It was the same man who’d executed one of Gloria’s healers in the town square.

  There was one final person in the room, though he stood off to the side, looking straight ahead. Valanor wasn’t wearing his armor, and Ethan wondered if there was some significance to that. He looked stern, but with Valanor it was difficult to say whether he was any more stern than usual. Ethan didn’t look at the man for long before turning away, he didn’t feel like he could handle the inevitable disappointment on the knight’s face.

  It was Princess Ellevaro who was the first to speak, though she didn’t address the court. “Priestess Abigail, you may begin.”

  “Thank you princess,” the woman said before stepping forward. She was in her usual clergy robes, though she included the tall, elaborate hat she’d worn for the last Church execution. Another great sign, he thought bitterly. She spoke to the king, though her eyes were on Ethan. “This man stands accused of the darkest of heresy, your majesty.”

  She gestured and Maggie came to stand next to her. Glenn was guided forward by the white armored knight. “These Children of the Goddess have been assaulted by this heathen, who has marked their souls with darkness, and cast them from the Goddess’s grace for all eternity!”

  Damn, Ethan thought, is that all? The king actually seemed equally unimpressed by her theatrics, and he sighed loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the room. Ethan recalled that Tomo had once told him high ranked Hunters often gained a different perspective on healing, understanding that their long lives would be cut short if they relied only on the Church.

  The High Priestess appeared undeterred, however, and prompted Maggie to speak. The knight did so, sounding surprisingly subdued compared to her attitude earlier. “It is true, majesty. Ethan Bishop used his dark power to rebuild my body in the caves during the Great Hunt. I couldn’t prove it, and hoped I might have been delirious from my injuries until I saw him do the same to Knight Glenn earlier today.”

  She withdrew a stone, which she placed on the floor. “My Familiar Netta is a fine scout. I had her watching the battle in the village, and this is what she saw.” Maggie activated the rune, and an image made of light appeared above it, large enough for the whole room to see.

  It began with Glenn being struck down, and Ethan winced in sympathy. Then the true horrors began. Ethan watched himself moving through the village, barely more than a blur of white as he appeared and disappeared, leaving death in his wake. There was an odd conflict within him, part of Ethan needing to look away, while another part felt compelled to watch, to see his deeds played out in all their brutality.

  There were mutters around the room as they all saw what he’d done to the bandits. The king leaned forward, a measuring expression on his face. Ellevaro put a finger to her lips and seemed deep in thought. Calevaro showed no reaction, but this time Valanor definitely looked from the image to Ethan, surprise and something else on his face.

  At last Gunther fell to the Volcanic Bolt, and the room went silent. They watched as Ethan stumbled over to the fallen Glenn. They saw his hands reach out, the rune of Apollo glowing fiercely. The knight's body was repaired before their eyes, and the man stood up a moment later, then the image cut out.

  Abigail smiled triumphantly. “There can be no doubt of what we’ve just witnessed: the darkest, most blasphemous of magic.” She turned to Glenn, who was still staring out one of the many windows. “Speak, child. Admit to the horrors that were done to your body and soul.” Glenn didn’t react, showing no sign that he was even listening. The High Priestess stepped forward and slapped him across the face, but he simply turned back to the window.

  “High Priestess,” Ellevaro said in a warning tone. “You will not compel testimony from the king’s knights through violence, and certainly not within the king’s own throne room.”

  Abigail’s face turned red with fury, but Glenn obviously wasn’t going to speak. “This is just more proof of the heretic’s dark influence!” she insisted. “The man is clearly mourning his own soul. I can feel the taint on it from here, imagine the pain it must be causing him!”

  She charged toward Ethan then, and at first he thought she might strike him as well, but she merely removed his gag. “Speak, heathen! Who else have you performed this terrible ritual on? Tell us, or be forsaken by the Goddess forever!”

  Ethan looked the woman in the eye, trying to communicate every feeling he had about her and the Church she represented with just his eyes. When he spoke, though, it was in a calm, strong voice. “I haven’t healed any others, priestess. Obviously if I had, you would have sensed the dark taint on their soul.”

  Abigail managed to turn even more red at that, and Ethan thought he might have even seen Valanor look at him again. Ethan resisted the urge to even glance at the shield knight, however, refusing to doom the man as well. Ethan had also healed him, of course, though Maggie couldn’t know that.

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  Abigail put his gag back in place then stepped back, turning once more to the royal family. “This barbarism must be put to an end. Sword of the Church,” she said, addressing the white armored knight, “do your duty.” The High Priestess moved back and began to pray.

  The red-caped warrior moved forward, pushing Glenn down onto his knees. Maggie joined him willingly, both facing Ethan. When the knight drew his golden blade, Ethan let out a small choking sound. He’d known this was likely his own end, but he’d held out faint hope that maybe there would be a less drastic fate for anyone he’d healed.

  He looked at Glenn as the golden blade was lifted above the man’s head, the glow slowly building. Ethan thought of the months he’d spent with the man. They’d stood side by side in battle, shared meals and stories. Glenn had a friendly smile and an easy way about him. He loved Ethan’s little Hydra Familiar, and tried never to let his envy show–certainly never let it affect his actions.

  Ethan tried to communicate his burning regret without speaking. He truthfully didn’t know what that terrible sword was doing, but he was sure it was a fate the kind man didn’t deserve. Surprisingly, Glenn finally looked away from his view of the night sky. He gazed right at Ethan as the sword was brought to rest against the back of his neck, and he smiled.

  In his last moment, Glenn chose to do the only heroic thing left to him. But it truly was his last moment, as the golden sword came down with terrible finality. It pierced through him without resistance, and the burning light ravaged the brave man from the inside, burning through his very soul.

  Ethan made himself watch until the light faded away, not wanting Glenn to be alone if he had even the slightest awareness during the grissly end. Then it was over, and the brave knight slumped to the floor, lifeless. Ethan’s head slumped with him, and he let his eyes shut out the world.

  Maggie was next, voluntarily going to her death, but Ethan didn’t feel that he owed her anything, and refused to take responsibility for what happened next. The woman believed in her religion, and Ethan had violated it, and her–though he had no way of knowing he was doing so at the time. He wouldn’t blame himself for trying to help a dying woman, whatever she decided after the fact.

  He heard the sound of the blade piercing through her body, and the odd sound like a furnace heating up as the light tore through her. Ethan only opened his eyes again after he heard her lifeless body hit the floor. The white knight then moved slowly to stand behind Ethan, while the High Priestess stood over the bodies, mumbling a prayer.

  When she finished, she turned to the royals. “The only question remains how to suitably punish the heretic,” she announced. “I respect that circumstances may not lend themselves to a public execution, but I think that–”

  “You are getting ahead of yourself, High Priestess,” Ellevaro said. “The court has allowed you two of its knights for this incident, in deference to the Church. However you’re quite aware that this agent has a much larger role to play.”

  “Certainly any plans involving this monster became moot when he was revealed as the charlatan and blasphemer that he is!” Abigail insisted.

  The princess stood, walking toward Ethan. “But he is not a charlatan, is he High Priestess? We all saw his healing work. Miraculously, one might say.”

  “Only if one longed to feel the golden sword!” Abigail shrieked, and the king rushed to his feet.

  The room became oppressive, and the lights seemed to dim as Rothavaro loomed, his Astral presence pushing in on the physical world. He spoke in a dangerous whisper. “Did you just threaten my daughter, in my own palace?” he asked, and the priestess paled.

  “N-no! Of course, not! I would never–”

  “Do not forget yourself, priestess,” the king said, his glare seeming to burn into her. “This is my realm, and the Church acts at my sufferance. Now, daughter, you were saying?”

  Ellevaro gave the hint of a smile. “There can be no question that his healing works, we’ve seen it ourselves. He asked for nothing in return, merely helped two of our citizens who were injured–while performing a service to the realm.”

  “That was not healing,” Abigail insisted. “He used dark magic to put a body back together, but only the Goddess can truly heal.”

  “On the contrary,” the princess said, now standing over Ethan. “The Runemaster confirmed that the accused was utilizing a skill rune. No different from a blacksmith or craftsperson. He hasn’t been in our world long enough to acquire the expertise necessary–if it even exists–in order for a skill rune to work.”

  She leaned down to lift up his manacled hand, examining the bow and arrow. “The only conclusion is that this is Terran power. Their world doesn’t have our blessings, and doesn’t follow our Goddess.”

  “Irrelevant,” the High Priestess said, though she kept her tone civil, glancing at the king. “This is our world, and even Terranova follows the precepts of the Church! He cannot be made an exception, allowed to mutilate the souls of our people at a whim!”

  “She’s not wrong on that count, daughter,” the king said. “He may have been ignorant when he first arrived, but he wasn’t when he used the power on Knight Glenn. I am…sympathetic toward his actions. How many of us would not wish to call back a comrade from the brink of death? But this cannot continue.”

  “His death is the only acceptable outcome,” the High Priestess said, looking defiantly at the king. “This is your realm, majesty, but this is the Goddess’s world, and the Church must be allowed to do its duty in protecting the souls in her care.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “I was reminded once that there is no need for haste in these matters. The accused can rot in a cell for a time, as we determine the best way to handle this delicate matter.”

  “That is not good enough! He must be executed!”

  The king was actually looking at Calevaro when he spoke again. “No. Certainly not yet, the man has value still.” He looked back at the fuming Priestess. “But as I said, I agree that he cannot be allowed to continue as he has. So we will make a gesture to the Church.” He called to one of the knights that had brought Ethan in. “Fetch the brand.”

  Abigail evidently had no objection to this at least, and she smiled before moving toward Ethan, looking down at him with disgust. The knight returned a minute later, placing a small metal stool next to Ethan, then holding his manacled hand over top of it. A second knight moved forward, holding a long iron rod, with a circular end.

  He pressed against some runes on the handle, and the end began to glow with a red heat. Ethan could do nothing. His runes were locked away, his hands were bound, and he was on his knees being held in place. All he could do was watch as the knight brought the branding iron closer, then paused.

  “Do it,” the king said dismissively. The brand came down, pressing into the top of Ethan’s right hand, the symbol of Apollo disappearing as smoke rose up and the stench of burnt flesh permeated the room. Ethan screamed against the gag.

  He was familiar with the pain of burns since nearly having his Bonds destroy his soul, but this was more than just heat. He could feel the pain ravaging through his arm, cutting off the threads that connected the healing rune to his spirit. It burned him from the inside, and even some of his scars began to drip blood again, staining his shirt further.

  The branding seemed to go on forever, and he could only try to bear the pain, the sizzling sound turning his stomach. At last the iron was pulled back, and he collapsed to the cold stone floor.

  “Take him to the Deep Cell,” King Rothavaro commanded, and Ethan felt himself being lifted, his mind numb from the pain. As he was dragged away, he looked back at the people in the room, each seeming lost to their own thoughts.

  The king was looking at Calevaro. The princess had a glare locked on the priestess. Valanor was staring at his dead knights, his face drawn. The last thing Ethan saw was High Priestess Abigail staring back at him, a look of absolute triumph on her face.

  Some way, somehow, I will bring your entire, corrupt religious empire down, he promised himself.

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