“Don’t you?” I fire back, my tone daring him to deny it again.
“All I remember is helping patch you up after you were injured. And maybe saving your life, at least once.” He glances at me from the corners of his eyes. His lips press into a hard line of frustration, like he’s fighting to keep himself from speaking. But his eyes are all warning—We’ll talk later, I think I imagine seeing in them.
“I’ve no idea what you mean,” I say and leave it at that, for now, hoping I’m right that this isn’t the final word on the matter.
The chapter house is at the end of a cloistered passage. It isn’t very large, but it’s filled with an air of importance that subdues conversation as our small group files in. Stone walls rise three stories to a lofty ceiling supported by thick, wooden beams. Hanging from the center of the ceiling is an iron chandelier humming with Etherlight that casts the room in a warm glow. Five tapestries are strung up in a semicircle opposite the entrance, behind the lectern. Though I’ve never seen these exact works before, I recognize their contents—each tapestry carries symbolism representing the five tenets of the Creed.
The first is a dragon’s face emerging from thick clouds meantto signify the scourge:Dragons are the enemy of life.
The second, a vertical sword with a dragon curled around the pommel, like the Mercy Knights carry, meant to represent Valor’s legendary blade:Mercy is given through the sword.
The third has a swirl that is meant to represent Etherlight, stars dripping from it:Etherlight is sacred.
The fourth, a scroll in a clenched fist:The Creed is the absolute truth.
The fifth, an armored helmet with dragon’s wings rising from the temples, void of its wearer, the style well out of use for what Mercy Knights currently wear:There is Valor in sacrifice.
Five tenets that begin with the enemy and end with the savior. Every time I see the symbols, unease overcomes me. It’s as though both the dragon’s and Valor’s void eyes stare at me…and only me. As though both are trying to claim me.
Multiple rows of stone benches, worn to smooth divots from countless supplicants throughout the centuries, await us. It all reminds me vaguely of the Grand Chapel of Mercy. The vicar begins speaking before the last of us have even taken our seats in the middle of the room but the back row of all the supplicants. The room can easily fit double. Lucan stays to my right and Saipha on my left.
“Who can tell me why you are here?” The vicar radiates power.
“To find out if we’re cursed,” someone responds in a small voice.
“Precisely.” The vicar grabs the lectern, leaning forward slightly. “The scourge might rot our lands, but the curse is a scourge upon our souls. Those who bear this hidden, sinister mark, who are weak to the draw of Ethershade, are among us—hidden in plain sight. They might be sitting beside you. Or perhaps that draw isinside you.”
Everyone glances around. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“It starts with a racing heart, then an unsteady mind. Doubtsand fears rise as the humanity of the cursed begins to be consumed by the dragon within. Many will even show signs of compassion to our enemies—because those beasts are the cursed’s true kin.”
“Compassion? Toward a dragon?” Saipha says under her breath. Her eyes settle on me. “Not likely.”
I look away, reaching up to rub absently at my chest.
“The Creed, Mercy Knights, and each one of you holds a sacred duty to rid the world of these beasts. They destroy our Etherlight, weakening Vinguard’s Font every time one manages to breach the walls. For they carry within them Ethershade—the fuel of the scourge—and that is why they must be slain and their corpses must be properly handled to avoid the blight entering our city and our Font further weakened.”
Saipha straightens a bit at my side as the vicar goes on, waxing poetic about the role of Mercy Knights. He reiterates how they are an extension of the Creed. That their mercy is a holiness almost akin to Valor himself.
At that, the vicar’s eyes dart to me, drawing everyone else’s attention as well. I sit a little straighter, trying to appear as enraptured as the rest. It’s no small effort.
“And that brings us to the most sacred tenet of the Creed—of living as a citizen of Vinguard: there is valor in sacrifice.” The vicar moves from around the lectern. “Survival demands more than bravery; it demands the sacrifice of those who hold life itself sacred. To give up yourself for the many. Valor did not hesitate. He struck out fearlessly to slay the Elder Dragon.”
And what did it get him?The stories paint Valor to be this great warrior, but no one seems to linger on the fact that Valor left to kill the Elder Dragon and never returned. Here we are, centuries later, still with an Elder Dragon, a horde of lesser dragons beneath it, but without a legendary hero.
“That is why the Tribunal exists—to ensure that you are not arisk to this city that has raised you, that will keep you for the rest of your days. And when you leave these halls, you will serve. But take the lessons of this place with you forever.”
He pauses with dramatic flair before continuing, “We are the last barrier against the scourge. We are all that stands against the dragons. We are the last guardians of the Etherlight. Any souls beyond these walls are scattered and doomed in a desolate land.”
When I was a girl, I would imagine what those beyond the walls might look like. Mum spoke of them in a way that was in direct contrast to the Creed—she said should any other humans still survive, they would be just like us. Resourceful and determined.
Once, in my first year after my eyes turned gold, I asked Vicar Darius about them, and he showed me a drawing of them in a book. Every pen stroke outlined unfortunate souls twisted by the scourge and Ethershade. Claws extended from their hands. Parts of their flesh were scaled. Broken wings protruded from their backs at odd angles like some unholy abomination of a human-and-dragon union.
Whatever is actually out there is long dead. The scourge has become too widespread and Etherlight too thin for any pockets of life to survive beyond Vinguard. We’re all that’s left, and that’s why, more than ever, we have to fight to preserve our home.
As though stealing my thoughts, the vicar finishes, “We are a beacon of what could be. We are the last hope for all of humanity.”
Cindel jumps up, clapping wildly. The others around her do the same. Many of the supplicants bow their heads in reverence, asking for blessings of strength and duty. Even those that looked mildly skeptical upon entry now seem…bolder. More confident. As though with a few compelling words, they’re ready to lay down their lives for the vicar.
