Chapter 1241: Apostle of Secrets

"Roseburn?" Jessia’s eyes slid to me. "So it was true. A tithe."

"Yes. Your family offered you up to the church. You were simply the cost they were willing to pay for certain... favors. Just like every other inquisitor. You’re nothing special. There’s no secret. You no longer belong to yourself, but to the gods."

"I belong to no one," Jessia said, darkness swirling around her. "Not you, not the gods, not the emperors. Well, maybe one, but he’s not exactly the owning type."

"Folly. Every soul belongs to the gods. It is their right and our privilege."

"Is that why you like the job? Power over other people? You love the thought of being someone’s master?" She stepped back, twirling her dagger, its blade flickering like a mirage. "Hmph. I hate how similar I am to a bastard like you. But I suppose that’s your fault, isn’t it? Then it’s only natural that things end like this."

"What do you gain from this, traitor?" Korvin asked.

"Gain? Me? Nothing important. It’s funny how far we’ll go for the smallest, simplest secret. Isn’t that right, Xiviyah?"

I flinched as she looked at me, unsure of the emotions roiling inside me. I hated the inquisitors, and feared them even more, but watching this ninth-level monster bound on his knees by someone I trusted only slightly more than him... my heart didn’t know what to feel. Maybe it was just the taint of Oblivion, but it all seemed... sad.

"Well, I just wanted to hear it from your mouth," Jessia said, casually flourishing her dagger. "Everything else I’ll glean from your records and whoever happens to survive what comes next. I wasn’t really planning on ending it this quickly, but a girl has a job to do, and today I’m in more of a supporting role. Wielding the knife for someone who can’t, you see."

"You—"

That was as far as Grand Inquisitor Korvin got.

Jessia grabbed his throat, cutting off his breath. Darkness seeped into him, spreading like veins beneath his skin. As he began to struggle and writhe, his eyes bulging in pain, she brought the tip of her knife to his stomach. It cut through his armor as though it wasn’t there, sliding into his flesh with a soft rasp.

I shuddered, hugging myself.

I knew that technique.

It had pierced my flesh hundreds of times. There was nothing quick or hurried about it. The blade cut precisely against muscle and nerve to inflict the most pain with the cleanest wound. A messy cut, after all, left too much damage, limiting just how many times a knife could go in.

Blood began to run, hissing and evaporating as it traveled down the pitch-black blade.

"I don’t really care about the atrocities you’ve committed, not even against me," Jessia whispered. "Don’t think of this as revenge. Just... a thank you. For defining who I am. You should be proud, right? I’m doing exactly what you trained me to do."

Grand Inquisitor Korvin’s flesh began to crumble, turning to white ash that flaked away and vanished before it struck the ground. He disintegrated from the inside out, writhing and screaming as the corruption spread outward from the blade. His screams choked into wet, gasping gurgles as it reached his lungs and crawled up his throat. They finally died into silence as Jessia released him.

His body was gone before it hit the ground.

I stared in horrified fascination, unable to look away. Was it the knife, or Jessia herself? Either way, it mimicked the strange power of my aura almost exactly.

It didn’t wipe anything from Fate, not like Fyren, Arantius, or the Usurper had done. Instead, it unraveled the weave itself, breaking apart the elements of Fate that created reality and returning them to darkness.

All that remained of the Grand Inquisitor was his long, gleaming sword. I couldn’t see its enchantments, but it had to be at least an eighth-level blade to survive that.

"I wasn’t planning on causing much carnage today. Not really my style. Yet all of you are still here," Jessia said, turning toward the surviving inquisitors.

They were paralyzed in place, crippled by the death of their leader and the chill of Oblivion. Not even one had managed to keep hold of their weapon.

"S-Spare us... we are no threat to you..." one groaned, pushing himself into a kneeling position.

"See, that’s probably true, but I’m afraid I’ve been saddled with looking out for the little Oracle, too. Luke would kill me if I let something happen to her."

I glared at her.

What did she call letting me get chained and dragged around?

My arms and shoulders already bore deep bruises from the inquisitors’ grips, and my horn ached fiercely.

"So, I suppose you can just chalk this up to bad luck. It’s not personal," she said, sauntering toward them.

I turned away, covering my ears as their screams echoed throughout the chamber. They didn’t last long, and when I risked looking again, not even their bodies remained.

"There, that takes care of that. I did my part. Your turn," Jessia said, dismissing her dagger with a carefree wave.

When I didn’t move, she made a shoving motion with one hand. "Come on, get going. I want to poke around a little, but I promised not to leave until you were done."

I lifted my hands, showing her the heavy iron bands around my wrists.

"Jessia..."

"Ugh, fine," she grumbled, dragging herself over with long, exaggerated steps.

She grabbed my wrist none too gently, and Oblivion manifested around her hand. The manacles evaporated.

I gasped as the weight of my soul and the barrier returned all at once. My aura retreated again, balanced by the power of the divinity until the two were once more equal.

Still, the dark remained.

Then again, it had always been there, but now I could see it. I didn’t like that I felt it peering back.

"Finally," Verity said, materializing with her sword drawn. "Gods, I hated that. It was like being tied up and thrown into a river."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, rubbing my wrists.

The sharp edges of the manacles had cut into my skin and drawn blood, but I healed them, along with my other aches, with a spell.

"And you," Verity growled, glaring at Jessia. "Took you long enough. What if they had hurt her? Or worse, killed her? The pope ordered them to!"

"Oh, relax. They never would have actually carried that out."

"How can you be sure?" Verity pressed.

Jessia spread her arms toward the now-empty chamber as though that explained everything.

Verity didn’t look convinced.

"Look, I never would have brought Xiv here if I thought there was any real danger. I mean, sure, there was a ninth-level inquisitor obsessed with torturing people, and Xiv happens to be really torturable, but that was never going to happen. He was too arrogant. Too used to being the strongest. His plan would have worked perfectly against almost anyone else, even Luke or your hero friends."

She bared her teeth.

"Too bad his opponent was me. Too predictable."

Verity clenched her jaw but didn’t retort.

My tail flicked as I studied Jessia, and I quickly averted my eyes when she turned toward me with a challenging stare.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, lowering my head.

She tossed her hair. "Whatever for? You did well enough, even if you made it a little too easy at the end. I wanted to see the look on his face when my knife cut through his wards and—"

She froze as I caught her hand and pulled her into a hug.

She stood stiff as a board, her arms trapped at her sides. She could have broken away at any point by teleporting, sinking into Oblivion, or even just using her overwhelming eighth-level strength.

Her hair was surprisingly soft as I held her tight. She was light and lean and didn’t have much warmth of her own.

Like me.

"What... is this?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.

"It must have been hard, suffering so much. You only know how to hurt others because that’s how you were hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t understand, I just—"

"Oh no. You misunderstood nothing."

She deliberately, if carefully, extricated herself from my arms.

"I’m not some poor, miserable soul for your pity. I kill because I want to. I hurt people so they’ll tell me secrets. I do everything I want to, and nothing that I don’t."

"That’s what you meant," I said, blinking back tears. "The beginning of the path defines the end. You didn’t ask to be an inquisitor."

She shrugged. "Yeah, well, it’s what happened. Now, if your shining knight over there is finally done with her nap, I think I’ll take my leave. Good luck with all this."

Oblivion rose from the ground, curling around her, but I caught her hand.

She looked annoyed, even more so when the shadows obeyed my will and sank again.

"What?"

"There are no secret demons, are there."

She blinked, and then a small, sly smile flashed across her face.

"No. No, there’s not."

Then she was gone, pulling away and vanishing in a puff of darkness.

"What’s her problem?" Verity muttered, folding her arms.

"I think she’d say she doesn’t have one. But she’s hurt, I think. And lost."

"I wouldn’t be so certain. She’s right about one thing. Not everyone’s a project that can be fixed with a little love. If there are people who enjoy healing, there are others who enjoy hurting just as much. She might not have had a choice at the beginning of her path, but she’s walked every step of it since then."

"Like Luke," I murmured, clasping a hand to my chest.

I found the Soul Binder warm and humming, filled with his presence.

"But I still think she needs a hug."

Verity chuckled, shaking her head. "Maybe. But at the end of the day, we become who we choose to be. Except me. I never wanted to become a ghost."

I smiled, almost able for a moment to forget exactly where we stood and what had just happened here.

"That’s why we’re fighting," I said, turning toward the magic formation. "For a world in which we do get to choose that. So long as there are gods who can act as they please, without care or consequence, mortals will never truly be free."