Hearthsoul Chronicles 65 What have i become?

The caster brought them here. This was certain. All of them. A punishnt, but not death. No, not that. Sothing else. He had sealed the ones above from prying, so it was not a humiliation, nor a curb to soone's pride. Sothing else, then. His mind churned, possibilities swiftly passing in flash instants.

It was not an outco for pride-killing or death. rrin looked to the side and froze. There, a familiar thing amid the rocks: a silver sphere. Sothing once seen in the cold ho of the caster. "What is that?" The question halted in his throat.

Pain.

The arching thrill flooded his arm—and the alertness of it surged within. The sa for the sleepers. They all jerked at the suddenness, so wincing, so screaming. A clear justification for the pain. Their screams, however, were banned as a voice tore into the pit, echoing from above.

"You all have disobeyed the laws of the mines." rrin knew that voice. The cold indifference of it assured the certainty.

The caster.

He looked up through a brief stinging of lamplight and saw the man through the narrowing of his eyes. The caster, overlooking with a blackness of expression. He spoke. "It has been noted that many mines have lost their elents. Therefore, a ans for success has been presented. But first, you all are to mine whatever still exists there. Upon completion, the orbs you see will be exploded, creating further depths to the pit." He paused. "Do not harm the orbs."

His eyes remained for a minute, as though observing for defiance. Soon, however, he sauntered away.

rrin remained, stunned by the observed events. What was this? This was no punishnt, just work. This ant sothing… He allowed his mind to ponder. A reason for the no retribution ant sothing. What was it?

A figure among the miners looked to him—recognition flashing in his eyes. "sunBringer!" he shouted, and the word fanned out, drawing further eye-searching from the rest. They soon spotted him and ran in glee. Almost like children, rrin noted, and felt the internal warmth of passion. His passion. His desire for these people.

He smiled.

And that expression sohow pressed elation into the witnesses. They reached him, panting. The pit was wide enough to require it. Yet, they looked up to him. Strange. He knew himself to be shorter in comparison, but they, by ans of lowered legs and hunched backs, gave the divergent impression. They beca small in his presence.

Such reverence. Such things I have imprinted into these people. Those words revealed dejection and mirth. What a contradiction. One lowered her head and edged close—fearful, pious. The dream mory must have latched itself into their inner perceptions. Once, they saw him as a savior. So miracle bestowed upon themselves. But doubt remained. No more. After that. They feared his wrath. They feared his power. They feared him.

What tools they were becoming.

"sunBringer," she said, speaking in that soft, chilling intonation known to the Nights. A Noctis born. rrin felt his mind dash with imputations and innermost processing. Gathering. Knowing. She was a wall to him. A thing he could read with little exertion.

What had he beco?

She knelt, hid her pain with scattered hair, and said, "Take as I desire to be yours."

A predictable thing. rrin sighed within and understood the event was unstoppable. This was the way of the world. Might had been shown, naturally; the weak made sure to grasp it by whatever ans. This was the fruit she desired.

But…

"You are already mine. All of you," he said, and saw the frenetic responses of expression. All fell to their knees. "I will forever guide you and stay among you. In your gathering, know my presence there." A dogma of the church. "Listen to my words, for they are the truth. So of you, the devout, have been taken to paradise. They enjoy that solace. Stay with , and that future is yours."

"SunBringer!" They roared as one—a loud noise that masked the distant ones. The banging beca a null thing, just the breathing, the orgasmic emotions, and the fervor. He had prepared them—remade them in his image. What a terrible thing.

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He saw then, in fullness, ahead, the giant of a man stood, smiling. rrin startled and walked past the lowered ones. He moved with such quickness that it echoed his internal state: excitation, glee, happiness. Ron lived. Praise the Origin!

In monts of closure, rrin discovered himself undersizing. A natural thing when before the might-be Aspirant. He smiled, slouched left. A sure involuntary action, but one born from pain. He, too, was wrapped in stained white. CleanseWitch thods. But the ache still lorded. How terrible it must feel. Back and forth, according to Moeash, he had saved many of his witnesses. rrin adored him for that.

"Thank you," he said, and saw the deeper smile of the giant. Clothes torn, blood-soaked, yet his arms still lived within the sleeves. What powerful principle must dictate this action of his?

He said, "Ma'rim, this is okay. I… I thank you," he ended with a slow bow. That was enough. And rrin saw the swarming of yellow servs around him—like the witnesses. All shared as one in the deepest delight. He turned and saw the man-child, standing, not bowed, just standing.

rrin obscured his felicity with a phlegmatic expression and sauntered. He reached him and said, "You're awake." It was not a question.

Moeash lowered his eyes. "I am awake," he said, scanning through the lowered ones. "Not everyone is here?"

rrin chilled. "They have ascended to solace."

Moeash turned to him—a certain brief doubt flashing through. "Ascended to solace?"

"Yes."

"So they died."

Silence.

Moeash lurched away, and rrin knew the man was plagued by great sadness—a thing seen by the floating dark and blue servs. I wonder if he hates , he thought. This was my fault. The dead, he must have known so of them, just as Ron had. But… rrin looked at his hands… I know I shouldn't… But Moeash, please don't hate .

This was a plea to the Almighty. A hopeful one. A want that brought about a deep breath, one left unhindered to the Witnesses. Once in a while, they were allowed to see. Even the Almighty rested after the song and dance of creation.

He whirled to the witnesses and said to them, "Mine as the law has been given, but don't touch that." He pointed at the sphere. This, he saw in their eyes, sparked so defiance. Knitted brows, clenched jaws. They hated the caster now, the mines, everything. They would, if ordered, bring war and death to them.

What dangerous consequence would that have?

Moeash, please don't hate . The prayer recalled, and rrin trembled at its failure.

In the beginning was the one who made the beginning. And he sang—the song of Salmira.

rrin was refused mining. The witnesses, even the non-ones, had confessed rejection of the work. They would do it, they said, not him. Not the savior. He could only watch now, perched on highstone, staring as the witnesses banged tal against stone. Panting. Sweating. The heat here showed enough intensity that one questioned the service of the froststone. But they did, just not strong enough to quell the severity.

In fellowship was Ron, seated on a lower highstone, body straightened. Noble things. Beside him—an empty spot. Moeash had been invited to the needed rest, but refusal beca the response. This was a foreseen outco. The deaths, those bothered him greatly. How he wished to resolve that pain. But the how eluded any involved ntation.

rrin desired to offer solace, but Moeash would not take it. Alone. This was what he wanted… I must wait for him.

In the anti, he delved into the greater collection of incomplete thoughts. Ti was the gift now; he best use it well.

The Caster's Motive

First, he brought strength to the question of the caster's motive. In that gathering, two potentialities were spat out. One: the man lacked the needed authority to dispatch them. This factor was increased with the Sister's words for a sacred caster. One, he believed, was stronger than the mine's. Using the known ranking thods of the clan, the possibilities that the presence of this sacred caster lessened the strength of the mine caster echoed with great assurance.

The other was a tanoia. Chances remained that the caster spared them for little reason but a change of heart. This, however, held little weight when subjected to the ans Clan casters treated others. Valor was proof of that.

Two possibilities—one sureness. rrin looked up, scanned the lamps scattered on the walls. Light, dim. For so reason, the tenebrosity was calming. Thought churning. Good.

The veilCounsel's Path

He dumped the prior ntation and took another. A different one—a more interesting one. What could he do now as a caster? The most important. Revealed by the words, he knew now that exceptionalism was a reachable construct. If, by ans of luck, he reached a certain strength, the chances for freedom elevated. That, of course, required Catelyn, but…

I wonder if she survived. He wanted her to survive. Distraction. rrin saw a woman resting on a highstone. How tired she seed—a thing he saw through her trembling shoulders and drenched tight clothes. Form outlined. Yet, there was a smile. Servs of delight confird this. To endure pain with reverence… What have I done to these people?

He returned to the innermost procession. What could he do as a veilCounsel?

The world drowned in the phrenic grayness. And he saw the gradual opaqueness of the symbols. Shapes, glyphs. Dots of distant light, and of course, the whispers. Now, however, it was a milder thing. Focused. Clearer. Like distant flows of words. Before, the knowledge ca from all things; now it was the similar things: the shadows, the darkness, the waning.