The Inquisition

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. However, the antithesis of the dark, stone church behind me protected me from the flames. I never thought that Our Lord, Eveynthy, was never in such cold buildings, but it felt as if even He was hiding from this inferno. “This is the might of the Lord of Creation, the molder of the six elements!” As the Head Magus exclaimed these words, I felt the pride in my chest rise with the screams in the forest. ‘But is this right?’ A small breeze kept whispering that one phrase into my mind. As the flames engulfed the cries of agony, I slipped into thought and memory.

Before any kindling was laid, before there were executioners, there were defendants. The Silian Empire was still whole when these defendants were once known as citizens, magi even. However, the power of the magi became too much for the Empire to control. As such, it split into two warring factions, the Sacrificed Apostles and the Imperials. The Apostles remained loyal to the Magi and the Oracles of the Sacrificed, their religion. The Imperials remained loyal to the Emperor. At the time, I was a young scholar, training to be a Magus. 

“Damn Imperials,” I remember my mentor cursing to himself as I devoured a book on worship services. “They worship the Emperor like a god. I only know of five gods, not six! Tell them to me, quickly Evyn!”

I shot up from my chair and responded, “Eona, of Spring, Ivelene, of Summer, Fodhor, of Fall, Wuldir, of Winter, and Elenthy, of Creation.”

“Very good, boy, you’ll be a magus yet.”

I smiled at the compliment I got and returned to reading. I remember I had always wanted to be a Magus, like my mentor, who took me in after my family died when a group of bandits burned my house. My mentor found me as I was drifting between consciousness. He rescued me and began to teach me about the Sacrificed.

“The gods used to live in a great heavenly palace, where they would lounge and eat in extravagant luxury,” he would often tell me. “The only rule was the divine must not leave the palace and live with the mortals, nor could any mortal live with the divines. Many gods and goddesses obeyed the rule and lived in perfect pleasure. However, five divines decided to test the only rule. Three gods and two goddesses. They would constantly talk about mortals and try to peak from the stars at the worlds below. Finally, after decades of decadence, a young god by the name of Elenthy decided to break the rule. He came down to Earth to help the young planet grow. With him, the four other gods followed. The Elder Divines were angry with his rebellion and banished the Sacrificed from all territories of the divines. However, one of the Elder Divines felt pity for the young god and gave him the ability to create. With that ability, Elenthy gave control of the seasons to his friends. That is how our world, our race, our life came to be.”

I always watched with intensity as my mentor told stories. He was no bard or minstrel, but he could weave words as good as any tapestry maker. I was listening so intently that I was brought back to reality with a knock at the door. My mentor got up to receive our visitors.

“Well, what is this, then?” he questioned impatiently.

I looked beyond my mentor to see a scared messenger speaking to him. I could feel the room weigh heavily as my master received the news. Finally, when the quick whispers of the messenger stopped, my mentor grabbed his coat and ran out the door into the warm embrace of Ivelene. 

I asked the messenger what had happened. He looked at me and shook his head as he asked to come in and take a break.

“Of course, can I get you a drink,” I asked.

“If you don’t mind,” he responded, “it is quite a long story.”

We talked about what was going on. Apparently, the Council of the Elder Magi were about to break off from the Empire to form their own state. Voting for independence was about to begin, with each sect getting one vote. My mentor, the Elder of the sect of Fodhor, was called to be present for the voting. I wished my friend a good day as I went back to my studies, praying to Elenthy to protect this new nation, or grant reconciliation between us.

My prayers fell on short ears, however, as I was awoken that night by my mentor storming into the house. He was frightened as he ran up to my room. He woke me and spoke quicker than the winds of a storm. I could not catch much of what he said. Then, there was the knock at the door.

“Elder of Fodhor, you have been accused of high treason against the Kingdom of Elenthy, please surrender yourself so you can be presented before a high court.”

“Like damn I will surrender,” my mentor yelled back, “listen, I voted against independence. When I spoke out, I was accused of treason. I won’t make it.”

The knocks had stopped by now and became the sound of men against the wood, trying to break down the door. I was terrified. I did not know what to do. Our lives were devoted to teaching the Empire about the Sacrificed. Now, we may sacrifice ourselves for this cause. My mentor looked into my eyes and shook his head. 

“This is the end for one of us. The Inquisitorial courts are ruthless but fair. If I give you up, I will go free. If you give me up,” he took a letter opener from a table and thrust it into my hand. I shook my head as I began to tear up. I didn’t want him to die. I didn’t want to lose my family again. He shook his head, took my hand in his, and thrust the blade into his heart. I screamed and lost consciousness.

When I awoke, I looked up at a high stone ceiling. I was in a Church of Eona. Because she is the goddess of Spring, Eona is also considered the goddess of healing, as she heals the earth from the winter cold. I was being tended to by a magus of Eona, a girl no older than I. She noticed I was awake and called for one of her superiors to help her. They gave me a bitter-tasting medicine and wished me well as she walked out the door. Immediately after she left came an important-looking man, followed by four hooded figures.

“Greetings, boy, I am the Elder Magus of the Sect of Elenthy, High Magus of the Kingdom of Elenthy. I want to commend you on subduing your mentor. Unfortunately, it was too late by the time he was brought to this Church. We gave his remains his final right and left him to the judgment.” The Elder Magus seemed 20 years younger, quiet, and sad as if he had lost an old friend. I felt sorry for him in an instant. Then, he continued, “I apologize for what you have done, for what it's worth. We wanted to bring him in for questioning as to why he voted against our cause. Why don’t we go for a walk?” He turned to his attendants, “Help tend to the other patients.”

Once outside, we walked to the forest that surrounded the church. He looked at me and asked, “I hope you know why most of our churches are surrounded by forests?” I shook my head, “We don’t believe Elenthy or any of the other gods live in the churches. We believe they created the world so that they can live in it with us. We use the churches to do the works of the Sacrificed, but not to worship. Worship comes from the forest. That is also why our dead are buried beneath trees. Trees feed on the energy that rests in the soil. We give the energy of the dead to the soil so the trees can consume them and return our dead to the service of the Sacrificed. That’s why…” The Elder stopped talking as we came to a newly planted tree in the middle of a clearing. 

My next memory brought me to 7 years after that day. I had become a practicing Magus in the sect of Elenthy. The civil war between the Sacrificed Apostles and the Imperials was now in full swing, as both sides clashed in bloody spectacles. I had witnessed one battle, as a Chaplain for the army. Gore had anointed the dead buried beneath the trees. I understood the horrors of war first hand. I understood, then, why members of the Apostles would be opposed to war. I knew something similar was happening to our enemies. In fact, I could practically see the white flag behind the back of the Empire. Our enemies didn’t execute those that criticized the war, though.

I was brought back to the present as the smoke-filled my lungs. I heard the Elder Magus preaching over the sounds of the burning men, women, and children. Among the cacophony of the raging inferno, I found clarity. I understood why I killed my mentor. I understood why we went to war. I understood why those devoted to Fodhor are burning and why the other sects will burn as well. And, I finally understood how to prevent the fire from consuming the forest. The fire that began in the sect of Elenthy. 

The inferno was dying down, now, as the Elder told his attendants and his guards to finish off any heretic. I followed him inside the stone church that had once been used to tend to the injured. Now, it was only a chest, a place to hide the crime of the Sacrificed Apostles; the refusal of burying the dead. As I walked past these bodies, I apologized to the trees for taking their energy.

I followed the Elder Magus up the stairs toward the bell tower. Finally, at the top, he looked out among the smoldering remains of the forest. He laughed as tears fell down his face. He turned to face me, just as I removed the bloody letter opener from my necklace.

“Have I made a mistake in protecting my religion, my people, my ideals?”

“Ask the trees,” I responded as I ran the blade into his heart. He cried out in agony as he stumbled off of the high bell tower. With his death, I rang the bell to signify the sunset of a new night but soon the dawn of a new day.