Indoctrination of Piety - Fan Fiction

Salty brine and frigid wind tore at the skin of men and women working the docks. For some it was worse. Others seemed to adapt to these conditions, even coming to enjoy them. Never was it the case for Cephasias.

He still cursed his luck in finding the one city of the Empire frozen by the northern winds of the Asmerian mountain range a continent away. It’s as if the citizens of Highgate themselves had packaged their arrogance and pride and shipped it as bundles of bitter frost to torment the shores of Oriath.

He would soon mark ten years since escaping that life. Those mines. Never feeling the touch of Solaris. The chill had never left him. It haunted every moment he breathed. Both awake and asleep. From the pain in his joints to the lingering nightmares of truth.

“Cephasias! Slow down brother, I can barely keep pace.” He had been lost in thought. His long legs had indeed outpaced his smaller companion.

“It’s so sad little brother to see how you limit our potential. Move your feet faster. Service begins soon.”

The two were expected to participate in an offering to Innocence. It would not suit their purposes to perform anything less than perfectly. Being late certainly wasn’t an option. The ceremony would be attended by none other than High Templar Dominus.

The High Templar divined with the most holy of both men and gods. When it came to the matters of spirit, there existed no equal. Of course, there was also no room for blasphemy, and the surest sign of disrespect is that of being ill prepared for moments that should be revered.

A single incorrect step in tonight’s theater could mean the return of a life he escaped as a child. That of Wraeclast and the Crystal Veins of Mt. Veruso. A single sign of weakness, an instant curse to be cast back into that hell. A single lie discerned would mean instant sacrifice, to the gods of Man. A feast for Innocence.


Dominus walked among the crowded streets. The armor of the High Templar Guard gleaming from his chest to toe. He shook hands with men. He smiled at women. In his eyes was the sadness of a man that sees what could be but isn’t. The crowds thronged around him. Citizens of Oriath! Yet, they smelled of waste. Beautiful architecture of the city, being lost to the ignorance of modern guild workers. These people deserved more. His people deserved more.

Cephasias only caught a brief glimpse of the man. He was sitting on a central park bench, having a casual conversation with hundreds around him. All were respectful. All were calm. It was clear that Dominus was liked by the citizens, even if they openly feared him. He suspected it was a dynamic that wasn’t entirely objected to by the High Templar.

He knew tonight’s offerings were the calls of blessings. To give guidance to the passage North. Dominus was once again striking out to the shores of a forsaken land. One filled with nothing but misery, envy, dread, and scorn. Wraeclast opened its arms to the forsaken of the Oriath. The cast offs. The criminals. The socially improper. Dominus and his High Templars held great standing in deciding what that meant. After all, he divines with the wisest of men and gods. Who is better?


Docked at the pier was his ship. Inside that ship would be hundreds of men, women, and sometimes even children being disposed of in the lands of the North. The lands of the Cataclysm.

Seen as an act of mercy, for what otherwise would be sins punishable by death. They are offered a redemption. A land of their own in which their choices will be all that determine their fate. Every exile has a choice. Which is more than can be said for the prior system of torturing and dismemberment that the Templars were at one time known for.

There was however dissent, there always is. It wasn’t uncommon for the Templars to be a bit zealous in their interpretations of this at times. Even if you didn’t know someone personally involved in these transits, someone you knew had. Every year, it seemed like more and more were plucked from the streets, under the cries of immoral social behaviors. Perhaps it was the way a man failed to yield properly to a black guard. Perhaps it was a short temper from a woman that failed to know her place. Occasionally it would be unfortunate situations with children, as will at times happen in noble families. But the ships continued to fill, week after week, month after month, year after year.

Cephasius was careful with his own views. The mines might have been a curse on his blood, but it also whispered secrets to him in those hours of sunless labor. One of those secrets was that there would always be people that believed differently. Enemies are easy to make. Sharing your own views serves no purpose other than to offend. Those that agree would regardless. Those that wouldn’t? Beware.

Even deeper the secret ran. He understood he could have his own view on things, personally. While still respecting those that he did not hold.

He had no general opinion on Dominus, other than the man represented a ticket back to hell if he screwed up his part to play.


As far as ceremonies go, it was well executed. It’s not that Cephasius had ever doubted himself, he just understood the significance of the consequences. He rose to the occasion because he had spent years honing what it meant to perform these duties. Nothing less could have occurred.

Just one more night and he’d be rid of the entire fiasco at least until Dominus made his rounds again.

“Did you see him? He’s truly a man of the gods.” Cephasius looked down at the younger man. They weren’t really brothers, but they were men of similar social standing. They worked together. They looked after one another. To them, that was enough.

“Theranos, how often must you share your views? However, please go on. There’s nothing that would entertain me more than to listen to the enlightenment of the simple man.”

The stroll back to the living commune could at least be filled with the chatter of ideas. For Cephasius was a collector of such things. People’s ideas. People’s perspectives. To him none were truly right or wrong, good or bad. All were just little beacons lighting a dark night’s sky. Helping to guide his own choices in life.

“Well, you saw it didn’t you? The way those men and women listened to him in the park. Almost as if they were under a spell. Yet, there is no thaumaturgy here. That spell, it was just his ability to listen to men and women without needing to raise his voice or stand above them.

"It was someone that spoke of a fairness that can quickly devolve into a madness. He’s seen it, you know.” With this Theranos hushed his tones in reverence. “He’s seen what happens when lawlessness corrupts man. He’s walked the shores of Wraeclast. The corruption that exists. The constant fear that hardens into either a shell of defense or a softness that gets you gutted. He speaks with no judgment, Cephasius. These men and women have broken sacred laws. They’ve made their choices. It’s not for us to decide their fates, that’s for the gods only. So, we leave it to them. What have they built on that?

Cephasius knew the question was rhetorical. The common understanding of the men of Oriath were all the same. That Wraeclast was just a corrupt wasteland of criminals and outcasts. But he knew better. He knew of the industrious nature that had taken root. He knew of struggles between ghosts of present and past. Nobody on Oriath had a true understanding of that wretched land, and that was for the best.


Theranos skipped a few steps to make up for the ground being lost. “What do you think? Did I manage to keep up with things? I’d say I’ve got a pretty firm grip on who Dominus is and what he represents.”

He wouldn’t be so easily baited. This after all was his friend. His brother. A man to be looked after and be counted on when needed. And friends were typically always needed. So why make an enemy?

Cephasius patted the younger man on the back and smiled. “Theranos, I know I give you a hard time brother. Yet, it never amazes me the insights you have. Absolutely brilliant analysis my friend. Tell me more about why you hold these views.”

After all, you're a friend. And a brother. And a man to be looked after and be counted on when needed. And you will be needed.

And so, the walk home went, as it always did. Cephasius bottling and storing little views of other people. Some good. Some bad. Some scandalous. Some blasphemous. Because who knows when one will need such a flask.

Most of Oriath assumed thaumagatory was a form of magic. Men shooting fireballs from weapons or giving themselves superhuman ability.

That was a lie too. A dark mouth had whispered the truths into his ears for years. Real thaumagatory was the control of men and women that use it. Why after all infect your own flesh and mind to powers that will twist and distort you, if you can have others do it for you.

Even here. In this very city. Against men that had never touched a virtue gem in their life. Thaumagatory was taking place. The subtle manipulation that has the power to sway masses. That’s the true power of Mt. Veruso. It was never the gems.

Cephasius understood this. He was, after all, a Thaumaturgist. It wasn’t a choice. He was born with ears to hear. Eyes to see. He was nurtured by the very father of thaumaturgy. A black whisper in his head as he chipped away, prying the prizes of men from the stone that locked them away. Cephasias only claim was that he was the last. Shortly after his escape, the mines were closed. With it closed the truths that oozed from the core. The realities that festered. The closing of the mines was also a closing of minds, and Cephasias could see it as nothing but a blessing.

Still, he saw the currents of men and women as clear as others see ripples on a lake.

He spent a lifetime navigating this reality. This wading of subtle interactions. The small glances between people that should not. The clear body language of even the most well trained against it. The little clues that are there for any to collect, but few do. These are the threads that weave the tapestry of existence. Understanding the tapestry reveals all. Including what motivates. If you understand what motivates. You understand how to control.

Escaping Wraeclast was no small feat. Yet it was navigated smoothly by a nine-year-old, dressed in rags, straight out of a mine pit. His only tool: nothing more than words and an understanding how these subtle threads of existence are just as easily puppet strings.

That’s not to say that all of the events that Cephasius experienced were pleasant. After all, there are many forms of motivation. Yet here he stood now. A free man, with a new name, and a life on the shores of Oriath.


Mostly he escaped before the Beast that would whisper to him in the night, learned his own motivations. Those were the thoughts that carried him to sleep each and every night. As long as those nights remained quiet. Cephasius would just keep putting one foot in front of the other in the hopes the whispers never returned.

There are terrors that come with truths. The practice of thaumaturgy was not one practiced for very long by those with a weak constitution for flexible beliefs. It lends itself to a certain amorality. One in which we accept that everyone has different definitions for right and wrong. So let us all do the best we can to live based on principles, not beliefs.

He was a self-righteous prick to be certain.

But he had no issues navigating this reality. All things fell easily to him. His charisma. His charm. His arrogance. His coin.

But he remained a steadfast adherent. He didn’t frequent bath houses, even if they were the best spots for a variety of perspectives. The lascivious nature of the places could stain his reputation. While he would frequent taverns, it was always only to listen to stories and meet new people. Cephasius was quick to laugh. Quick to pay. He was quick to agree with you, while never once ever really agreeing with you. Everyone loved him for no other reason than this: nobody was his enemy. He didn’t oppress anyone’s views.

Perhaps he was an arrogant prick. But at least he was one that would buy a few rounds while the more polite cowered in the corners.

He understood the ebbs of flows of his surroundings. He was adaptable to the circumstances. Cephasius was a different person to a million different people. Everyone that ever encountered him was given their own unique reflective mirror. One that the circumstances and moods of the moment shaped in real time.

While his skin never shaped. While he never changed color. While he never tried to hide behind a single curtain. He was still a thaumaturgist and as such was the greatest chameleon that nature had ever conceived.

Cephasius was gifted with extreme empathy. To the point of manipulation and control.

He had no aspirations. His only goal was to live a quiet and maybe not so lonely life. While he might be guilty of using these techniques to encourage positive outcomes around him. It was never to actively control.

What good could possibly come from drawing attention to himself. Perhaps his new identity holds up to scrutiny. Perhaps it does not, and there is no level of subtle manipulation that will change systems as ironclad as law.

No, his powers were for no other purpose than to serve his own basic needs. Petty as they might sometimes be. At nineteen there are certain needs that seem to take precedence over others.


Across the bar he saw her. All moments of the future flashed before open eyes. Instantly he knew this woman was a courtesan. Just as he instantly knew that she was his. There was no other reality. It was the only path.

Deep down, and never to be even whispered. He didn’t believe in their gods. Innocence. Sin. He found the entire concept somewhat small minded. People with opinions pointing at other people with different opinions. Over and over. There’s always good and evil. Which is which, isn’t that just a matter of which sword tip you’re staring down?

He knew real gods. A god spoke to him for years in that darkness. A god that freed him from his shackles. A god that understood that greater purpose is always served.

Yet in that moment his life changed. The draw was irresistible. It never occurred to him that she never stood a chance. His subtle manipulations of her moods, and feeding her need to be seen, feeding her need to be heard, feeding her need to be worthy of her own perspectives.

Mostly she was just looking for someone that would take her from that life. And that was of no problem to Cephasius. Money always came easily to him.

Two days later she was granted full pardon of her transgressions by the Holy Templars, after a considerable donation. All around hands reached out to Cephasius’ shoulders in respect that he would offer such a Civic Duty, to really enact his convictions and pluck a lost child of Innocence from the clutches of Sin and have her baptized and wed.

He did not control the flows and ebbs of reality, but his vision allowed him to transgress them expertly.

Perhaps it seems rude that we did not introduce this new woman of the evening. Yet, her story is short and is only remarkable because she was the first of many that all followed the same exact trend.

The nightmares always began within weeks after marriage. Bloody Entrails. Organs. It’s always the same. It’s a slow descent into madness and darkness. Only for the nightmares to always end the same. One last explosion in which all of the corruption, the poison, the hatred, the anger, the shame, the brutality of this place erupts into a singular spot. An unborn child.

The first wife lasted four months. The miscarriage was so destructive to her hips and lower nerve centers that she instantly railed into shock. That was the most fortunate thing that could have occurred. The creature that crawled from her was instantly smashed against the bricks of the tavern in which she had been drinking. It was something like a human. But it was clearly mutated in ways that were not natural.

Cephasius, while affected by the sudden and tragic loss of his wife and child. Had other considerations. He had just bred a monster.

Ripples would very quickly start to spiral out of his control if this situation wasn’t dealt with resoundingly. Only the most firm of acts will stomp out any troublesome sparks of dissent.

So he threw himself at the utter mercy of High Templar Dominus. He admitted his transgression of Hubris of the highest. Presuming to understand the mind of god. He accepted that the mutilated child was a rebuff directly from Innocence. An improper sacrifice.

And he was forgiven.



Five more times this forgiveness was issued to Cephesias. Although wives two through six were all issued directly from the High Templar’s discretion.

After each failed birth. Pardon granted. Some lasted longer than others. But they all ended the same.

Until they didn’t.

Even now, not much is known of the mother. The women being provided were never used more than once. Each night he was tasked to breed. It was that simple. On the seventh, he rested. Life could have been worse. The nightmares always came. They were always the same. And they always started and ended in parallel to the births. While nobody told him this. He knew. He could feel his offspring growing, becoming corrupted in the womb, and finally carving their way out of the host.

Until they didn’t.



Vinia was born. While never seeing the event with his eyes, he had an understanding of it that nobody could rob him of. She was beautiful. Perfect. She was every great aspect of himself with none of the beast’s tainting.

She was delivered to him a week later. It was the first time he had seen High Templar Dominus in many years. Cephasias’s opinion of the man changed drastically. It was clear that the trips to Wraeclath were taking a toll on the man. The dark aura, while only at the edges of his behavior, was still manifesting.

“You’ve done Innocence a great service here Cephasias.” The man slowly slid into a chair opposite of the bed he had yet to rise from. Dominus waved him away, “Don’t get up on my behalf dear brother. Your truth radiates all the same from any perspective. You have fathered a daughter. She is obviously a child of Innocence. You will see to it that she is raised in the light. That she will be the adherent her father is. We have looked after one another brother. All of these years. If you wish to continue that bond, I ask you to do it through your service to this child. Give her your wisdom. Give her your ancestral knowledge. In the days to come, I see a need for such. In the name of Innocence. In the name of Mt. Veruso.”

At that Cephasias made a very rare slip of demeanor. His mouth for just the briefest of moments shuttered.

It was not lost on a man that divines with the wisest of men and gods.

“You seem surprised that I’d know of Mt. Veruso, Cephasias. I wonder why that is. Afterall you must know that I visit Wraeclast often enough. It’s only natural that we investigate the sources of influence that are corrupting that world.” Standing in front of the door was his personal escort of black guards. “What does surprise me however, is that you’d know about Mt. Veruso. How very interesting indeed.”

Dominus waved to his guard. “Men, if you don’t mind. I’ll have a few minutes alone. It would seem your staring at him in his bed clothes is making our brother uncomfortable.”

With that his guards fell back out through the front of the dormitory and closed the door.

“Do not cross words with me, Thaumaturgist. I’m not the fool you take me for. I’ve known since the first moment you stepped on this island 30 years ago who and what you were. All of that has led up to this. Did you think you were the only one with ears? The only one capable of hearing the truth? Did you think no man had ever stepped foot into the bowels of the Crystal Mines before you were born?”

Cephasias was for the first time in his existence terrified. The aura that was nibbling at the edges of Dominus just moments before had swelled into faces of greed and torment. Faces of agony and despair. They swirled and engulfed his very physical manifestation.

Never had he seen something like that. Dominus wasn’t flowing with his surroundings, he wasn’t in the river of interaction. He was controlling it. It twisted and turned and swirled around him at his very command. You could see it in his eyes as reality flexed around him.

“You’re not the only man that made a deal with the Beast. It’s only that your payment has now come due.”

He knew. Vinia was not his. His beautiful precious gift from Innocence? Even if it was a gift from a god. It was only one owed to another.


****


“All these years Dominus. You have no problems watching as your black guards pitch their coins into my coffers, yet never a penny from you.” Vinia was lounging on a chase designed by the finest craftsman of the city.

“We’ve had this discussion before, daughter. My men are not held to the same standards of Piety in which I demand. I am the High Templar. The divine vessel of god in the flesh. My very observation of your sins is an act of sacrifice. One in which I absorb your filth, the filth of my men. My very observation of these deviant behaviors purfies them. Transforms them into righteousness.”

Vinia rolled her eyes, but only on the inside. He was just an old pervert that probably couldn’t even get it up.

“There are going to be some changes in our arrangement, daughter. ”

“I’m not a child anymore Dominus. While I might still spread my legs because it affords me a lifestyle I enjoy, it hasn’t dulled my mind. I am my father’s daughter and you’d do well to remember it.”

Vinia knew this was the only meaningful way to have a relationship with the man. Not that he was a romantic interest, but he did have meaningful control over her actions. As such Vinia needed as much leverage in that struggle as possible.

He’d never respect a whore. But Vinia was so much more than just a purveyor of flesh. She was a mover of wills. Using tools that surpassed any gifts her father had, she was able to put in place anything Dominus had requested. From the highest levels of the Oriathian power structure, to the lowliest streets of Theopolis.

“Your father and I. We were so much alike daughter. Both had ears to hear. I wonder what your ears tell you? Do they tell you that for as many similarities your father and I had, there was one very big difference?”

He waited patiently. He expected her to respond.

“Dominus, the only thing different between my father and yourself? Was the size of your egos. You quite literally have a god complex. He understood he was just a man.”

To this Dominus smiled.

“This is why I will always love you, my daughter. Perhaps you do not have the ears to hear. You certainly have the eyes to see.” he continued, “You’re absolutely correct in your assessment, though that’s not a surprise. It is after all what your blood is steeped in. Yet, do you understand the patterns that go on beyond us?”

Vinia, enraptured by a man that had tremendous understanding, tried to expand her sensations of reality. She tried to push her senses of empathy beyond just the room they were in. She could sense others. Other patterns. Patterns that weren’t seen in just the room. Patterns so large they threatened to break her mind. So she pulled back.

He nodded.

“Yes, it appears you do have the ability, daughter. Perhaps one day, you too will visit the belly of the beast and listen as all is laid bare.”

Vinia didn’t know what Dominus was on about. Half the time the old crank was just rambling incoherent mutterings.

“Understand this. Your father, he was gifted in seeing patterns as are you. That same gift was granted to me as well, yet I’ve had almost fifty years to explore it, plumb it, extract from it the keys of godhood.”

Vinia still didn’t know where this conversation was going, but it was obvious Dominus was building up to something. His shade was gathering. It was always like this as he reached decisions. It’d build and build, so much fury until the decision was made. Then Dominus was back. No shade at all.

It didn’t particularly matter to Vinia. There are worse monsters than men that think they’re in control. The beauty of it all to Vinia was just how easy it was to manipulate those men in particular. Because while Dominus might never drop a penny in her coffers, her control of him was all the same. She was just good at letting him believe what he already did.

“You’ll be traveling to Wraeclast with me on the next voyage.”

The silence was pronounced. Yet, it gave no allowance for dissent. Dominus owned her as sure as Innocence did. Little did Vinia know who actually held the deed.

“There’s a flaw in your logic, Dominus. What justification will you give to bring a courtesan with you on the journey? While you and I might take a sympathetic eye to the needs of your men, I don’t believe your congregation would share such things. Especially considering how many of them you’ve recently scooped off the streets.”

Just saying the words brought her the terrible realization.

“Don’t be simple daughter. Of course I’d never allow a whore on one of my expeditions. That would be a disservice to the sea. We honor the sea when we travel.”

“There is only one kind of woman allowed on the ferries to Wraeclast.”

No. Surely he wasn’t proposing what she thought.

Dominus stood, and as he exited the room nodded to his black guards.

Men that only hours before had caressed her body were now roughly shoving it into a prisoner’s coat that had been waiting outside. Mobile stockades. Meant to drag a citizen through the streets. Exposing their sins to the entire world for judgment.

Dominius had betrayed her.

Vinia was chained to a great statue in the center of Theopolis proper. This was a punishment reserved for only the most vilified. While certain patrons in the crowd would know exactly what she was guilty of. Most citizens would only know that she was of the most reviled of humans.

For three days she stood in the stockades. She made no sound at all. Not a single whisper. She stood as straight as the restraints allowed and endured inhumanities. She was slapped, spit on, called every name one can imagine. She was even urinated on, multiple times.

On the third day. Dominus appeared. He towered above the town square. Standing on a balcony that allowed him to see the entire area below.

“Friends. Citizens of Oriath. An evil has been brought upon us. It saddens me greatly when I look across this grand city, and I see the corruption that I’ve given my life fighting against on the shores of Wraeclast.”

He never raised his voice. Yet all had stopped. All were enamored with his honesty and obvious pain in seeing this disservice to the men and women of the city.

“Before us today stands a woman accused of corrupting our young men, women and inciting Blasphemous acts of Sin.”

Dominus’ eyes fell to Vinia. “Daughter of Innocence. You stand before us today accused of the most vile of acts.”

Vinia stood unmoved.

“Your father, Cephasius. He was known in these parts was he not? His first wife was a courtesan as well. Was she not?”

There were no secrets between her and her father. Of course she knew this. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer.

“Yes, it seems to me Innocence forgave her transgressions.” Dominus waited for her response.

“Did he forgive the beast that split her belly open as well?” Vinia spit the words as venom.

Dominus looked at the crowd and sighed.

“No daughter. If anything it only serves as a reminder that we do not always understand the will of god.”

To this the crowd murmured and agreed. Dominus was afterall a man of great wisdom.

“Do you know the punishment for inciting Blasphemous acts of Sin? The most carnal act of Sin? It stands against our very principles. We are the children of Innocence. It’s our stead, our duty, to find Sin where it resides and remove it from this world. Your actions have only served a purpose of corruption.”

From the crowd a citizen shouted, “Burn the witch!”. Another shout screamed for a pyre to be built.

“What say you to these charges, daughter of Innocence?”

The flows around Vinia were throbbing. So much darkness was ebbing into the square. A hunger of lust that swirled around the prostitute in ways that had never before. These people they wanted her body, but not for sexual gratification. The lust they had was for blood.

She was not going to be trapped by these cockroaches.. Not Vinia. She had ears to hear, and eyes to see. She was her father’s daughter.

Vinia collapsed to her knees. The first act of submission she had displayed in three days.

“High Templar Dominus. I plead guilty to all counts. As I look around at the fellow men and women that pass me in these streets. I have nothing but a shame in my heart that I have failed them. That I have failed myself. That I have failed Innocence. I am guilty of all charges. I have lived a life of subversion in which through my actions I have led many men and women down paths that were not righteous.”

In the last gleaming light of the day a single tear could be seen falling from the eye of Dominus.

“You’ll never know my sorrow child. For I truly believe that in your heart there is redemption. But for acts such as these? There can be no forgiveness. The punishment is death. Death by Pyre. I trust Innocence will judge you accordingly.”

With that Dominus nodded to the black guards behind her. A pyre was materialized and they began to strap Vinia to it.

“Wait!”

Vinia’s voice easily carried over what was a somber crowd.

Dominus slowed, and turned to the girl.

“Yes, my daughter?”

Vinia shrugged off the guards and flipped back up to her feet. Standing as tall as she was capable, shoulders pushed back as far as the restraints allowed. She spoke.

“I demand a trial of release.”

Dominus allowed the crowd to witness as he appeared taken aback for a moment.

“Child, you have no rights to release. You’re an Orathian citizen who has admitted guilt to high crimes.”

Vinia smiled.

“We both know where my father hails from. He was a citizen of Wraeclast. Do you deny such knowledge Lord Inquisitor?”

Dominus nodded.

“I do not deny that knowledge daughter. I must admit that it has been considered.. Your father, even if it were not known to his neighbors, did indeed come from Wraeclast.”

He seemed to consider the situation for a moment.

“Men, untie her. Tonight we will convene over a meal and allow Innocence to guide our hands in wisdom.”




Across the table the two sat alone in a hall capable of feeding hundreds. Yet even though they were separated by thirty feet of table, their voices never once needed to rise above a whisper to be heard.

“Why Dominus? What did that little circus prove? That I can think on my feet?”

The older man sighed. The sound that accompanies lack of understanding.

“Do you not see child?”

He considered his words.

“Tomorrow we will stand before that same crowd of men and women. And I will dawn a new era. You will be that vehicle Vinia. The first of the ascendance. It’s okay that you don’t understand now. You will. In time. Every sacrifice made is one in service to the greater good.”

Vinia looked horrified. The man was insane.

“The feast I’ve arranged for you tonight has long been in the making.”

With this Dominus waved to plates that while ample with food, obviously weren’t to which he was referring.

“Your father, Cephasius. Oh, how I miss him. He was a man that had ears to hear. He was a man that when truth was heard, it became known. It gave him many blessings in this life. Yet rarely are blessings without their curses.”

Dominus casually ate, always polite, always proper.

“Interestingly, you have the gift to see truths. All around you, the choices, actions, moods and desires of people are at your leisure.”

Vinia was starting to tune this man out. He was playing the preacher again. Rambling again.

“I’ve taken a different gift from the beast.”

Dominus stood and as he closed the distance the long table provided, began to unbutton his shirt.

Vinia was disgusted. “All this time, and I just assumed you could only watch. Did this beast give you a present that finally lets you be the man Innocence forbids?”

Dominus ignored the clear blasphemy and implication.

“No child. He gave me the ability to feel the truth.” With that he pulled back his shirt to reveal what appeared to be a virtue gem embedded into his chest.

Vinia jumped from her chair, horrified. He was a man that had spent his entire life attempting to eradicate thaumaturgy. Trying to bring an extinction to the use of these very gems.

“You and your father both carried the blood of thaumaturgy. One was gifted to hear, one to see. Yet you weren’t the only ones that were imbued by the truth buried in a forsaken land.”

He sat down a few chairs away.

“I can see you’re troubled. Fear not. While your gifts have until this point been gifts of the mind. You were created to be a gift of the body. No longer will the truths you see be restrained to the world of the immaterial. The subjective. No longer will you be restrained in your power to only influence minds. The truth conferred from the body, is truth that is rooted in reality. Our physical realm. When you feel truth instead of just seeing it, or hearing it, or knowing it. You can change it.”

So enraptured by his words, Vinia never once heard the two black guards that approached.

“Together, we will shape this world as it should exist. We will end the corruption of man. We will wash this world of Sin.”

He nodded to his men as they restrained her.

“What happens now, it might seem troublesome. I apologize for that. This ascension isn't without cost. It isn’t without pain. Your physical body cannot endure such things, even if your strong mind can.”

With a lightning quickness that betrayed his apparent age Dominus drew a ritual device and plunged it into his chest just below the virtue gem.

She screamed and fought the black guards to reach the man. Holding her in restraint as Dominus screamed in clear agony, blood erupting from the device, spilling over the table, the chairs, the floors.

And then he stopped, and Dominus slouched.

His shade was gone, only the man was left. Not a breath in his body, not a beat of his heart.

Yet his blood was not as quick to be stopped. It continued to spurt evenly from his chest. Chunks of his body clearly part of the rhythmic dance that Vinia felt compelled to watch.

They released their grip. The black guards turned and walked from the dining hall leaving the girl there with her dead patron.

The blood had seeped far enough down the table that she noticed it was pooling around her elbow. Table manners seemed the least offensive course of the evening.

Yet, she remained entranced by this rhythmic pulse that flowed from the body in front of her. How much blood can one man have? Was this device pumping it out of him? Why were the bloodlets starting to form patterns? The hypnotism deepened as Vania stood and showered in the display.

There was truth in blood. Dominus had said it himself. Truth in the body. Truth in the flesh. As she slowly danced under a full moon that perfectly outlined the oculus above the dining hall.

And time stopped.

But the blood continued to flow.

It spoke to her. Whispering secrets, no man would ever comprehend. Patterns so large that no single mind could ever see them. She feasted on this knowledge. This Truth.



The crowds had gathered once again to hear the judgment of their divinely inspired leader.

Crowded even greater around the ancient square of Theopolis they pulsated. Their intentions all tied in unison. While some sought blood and flesh, and others just justice. The demand was universal.

Vinia had been wrong. About so much. As she stood, not in the shackles of a stockade, but on her own two feet, free of any physical restraint. She knew. She was more of a prisoner today than ever before.

If she needed any further proof, all she needed was something else she had been wrong about. Dominus’ gathering shade. All of these years and she had assumed it collected around the man as his dark intent grew. But she knew the absolute true horror of its nature now.

These shadows didn’t gather around Dominus. They were Dominus. His intent. And where those tendrils of wispy smoke led when he made decisions was unknown. At least all but for one. Connecting her to the man that would decide her fate was now as clear to Vinia as any real chain. Yet it only carried intent. Will. Control. Power. And it was decidedly one way.

In her head, the whispers raged non-stop. Like a gnat at your mind, one that cannot be swiped away or ignored. Yet, indecipherable. All that mattered now was the chain. The force of will of Dominus. It rose above the whispers like thunder and lightning dispersing a petty cloud. Pusles of intent beating the same rhythm in her head, that she had danced to under the man’s rain of blood.

She could now feel the truth.

Her vision rose above the crowd. Beyond their simple animalistic drive. Their petty humanity. She truly felt sorrow for the blindness that raged before her. They had all been deceived. Lied to. Not by Dominus. Only themselves.

The patterns swirled and turned into greater shapes. Dimensions of reality that could be. In her vision she saw apparitions of men and women that stood physically before her, engaging in a dance of probability. Perhaps a man points his right finger at her, only for her to see the left being pointed as well. Maybe a woman in haste grabs a rotten apple instead of a tomato. Always a singular physical, but countless ghosts that could have easily represented reality instead.

All lay before her.

Every path, every pattern, spinning and twisting until they collapsed into a reality. One that she influences and shapes.

Dominus was right. Listening and Seeing isn’t enough. It’s not until you feel truth that you understand the role each plays in creating it.

The bitter irony, that was not lost on her, instead driven home in each second of this new found awareness was that she had no control.

Dominus and his will, fed by the power of a corrupted virtue gem, had tied and bound her will unlike anything a physical chain could accomplish.

While she was in control of her mind and body. She was at the complete disposal of the whims of a man that had long since lost his humanity in a search for truth.

“Brothers, Sisters. Sons, Daughters. I greet you on this blessed evening that Innocence has seen fit to provide. It’s a beautiful evening is it not. Of all the cities of the Empire, none hold my heart the way Theopolis does.”

His conversational voice carried to all. Never did he have to raise it.

“I’ve spent a lifetime serving the men and women of this Empire, you here in the crowd today. I serve you still. I will serve you until my dying breath.”

With this the crowd murmured and agreed. Respect and reverie keeping them calm and quiet in doing so.

“These are troubling times. No doubt many have heard of the disturbances taking place on that vile continent to the North.”
Not even Oriath could be shielded from tales of horror ferried like spices across the sea. Sailing men talk. It’s in their blood. Wraeclast had gone from being an outpost of exiles to one of walking nightmares. Beast and undead alike rising from the ground to lay claims at old oaths and older beliefs.

“This is a scourge that must be cleansed. The shores of Oriath will never sleep easy while such evil pervades the land. Sin has corrupted it all and we must purify it.”

Dominus took his time, never rushed to words. Never an uncalculated step.

“Last night as I kneeled in the Temple of Innocence. I divined with our lord. Innocence’s vision for Wraeclast lay bare before my eyes.”

His eyes turned to Vinia.

“Innocence wishes to deliver that continent a gift. The gift of righteousness. The gift of purity. The gift of Piety.”

The crowd began to whisper, unsure where the man was going with this.

Vinia could see the intent swell before it even reached her. The black tendrils guised as an ethereal chain bulged and pulasated towards her in an instant.

From her newly embedded virtue gem, Vinia could feel the power rise across her skin. Deep into her body. Under no control or will of her own, the gem burst forth with such power that it instantly destroyed her clothes and bathed her in a light so bright that people fell to the ground trying to protect their eyes.

“Who am I to speak for a god however. I am only a man. Innocence himself has deemed this woman whom some of you knew as a harlot, a prostitute, a purveyor of flesh and sin. She has been judged. By the will of Innocence, the woman you once knew as the blasphemer, is now the very weapon of virtue our lord has chosen to wield against the Sin in Wraeclast.”

Again, through no will of her own, Vinia’s mouth opened.

“I am Piety.”

Then she was gone.

That's a very good story and I really had fun reading it. I'd love to read more of this kind of content here, please keep writing dear exile!