The rain ended before dawn. Mist hung over the ruins. Elias stood from the wall where he had slept. His cloak was heavy with water. His stomach was tight from hunger. His mark pulsed steady under his skin.
He gripped the sword at his side. His oath from the night before still burned in his chest. He would not bow to gods. He would not bow to Inquisitors. He would not bow to the whisper.
He walked down from the ruins. The hills were wet and slick. The road was long. His mind stayed on the words he had spoken. He had no allies. He had no coin. He had no food. But he had an oath.
By midday, he reached another stream. He drank from the cold water. His reflection rippled. The glow of the mark shone faint through his tunic. He hated seeing it.
The whisper returned.
*You cannot run forever. The fire in you grows. Use it. Bind yourself to me, and I will make you more than prey.*
Elias wiped his mouth. "I don't belong to you."
*You already do. You took the mark when you lived. Do you think survival was free?*
Elias's grip on his sword tightened. He stood. He turned from the water.
The whisper followed.
*They will hunt you until you are in chains. Make an oath with me, and chains will break.*
Elias stopped walking. His jaw locked. He breathed slow. "You want an oath? I will give you one."
He climbed to the top of the ridge. Wind cut against his face. He drew the blade. He held it upright, tip buried in the dirt. His eyes stayed on the clouds above.
"I swear this," he said. "I will strike the Inquisition until they fall. I will strike the demons until they break. I will burn their thrones, both of them. I will not kneel to angels or to you. I swear it."
The whisper went silent. Then it pressed hard against his mind.
*That oath is against both Heaven and Hell. Alone you will die.*
Elias answered with no hesitation. "Then I die. But I die on my own terms."
The mark flared against his chest. His hand shook with the force. Flames licked along the blade, faint and red. He clenched his teeth until it passed.
By evening, he reached a road leading east. He saw smoke rising far ahead. Not the smoke of hearths. The smoke of fire and ash.
He followed.
The smell grew stronger as he walked. Burned wood. Burned flesh. His stomach turned. His mark pulsed harder.
He came to the village. Houses were half-collapsed. Roofs had burned. Blackened beams jutted into the air. Dead lay in the dirt. Some cut down. Some burned alive.
Elias stopped. His chest heaved.
The whisper spoke.
*This is their mercy. This is their justice. The Inquisition left nothing. Do you still cling to them?*
Elias walked into the square. Bodies were piled near the church. The steeple had fallen. Its bell lay cracked on the ground. His hand touched the stone. It was still warm.
He knelt by a body. A boy. His throat had been cut. His eyes were open. Elias closed them with his hand.
The fire inside him surged. His mark flared so hot he felt pain in his ribs. He staggered.
The whisper pushed harder.
*They will do this again. And again. And again. Until you stop them. Oath alone is not enough. Power must answer blood.*
Elias leaned on his sword. Sweat covered his face. He forced the words out. "Then I will answer. With blood. With steel. With fire if I must. But not with chains."
He buried the boy. He buried as many as his strength allowed. His hands blistered from digging. The earth was wet and heavy. He left mounds where the bodies had been.
When the work was done, he stood before the ruined church. His body shook from hunger. His arms ached. But his voice was steady.
"I swear by these graves. I will not forgive. I will not yield. I will strike down both Heaven and Hell for this."
The mark seared bright against his chest. The fire spread through his veins. It did not burn him. It filled him.
The whisper spoke one last time.
*Then we are bound. Not as master and servant. But as fire and fuel. Your oath feeds me. My power feeds you. Together we will burn.*
Elias's grip on the sword tightened. "Not together. I lead. You follow."
The whisper fell silent.
The sky darkened. Elias walked from the ruins of the village. His path was clear now.
He had no temple , no faith and no home but he had an oath, he had fire and he had a war to wage.
The road stretched before him. The mark glowed through his tunic. His body ached. But his steps did not falter.
Elias was hunted. Elias was cursed. But Elias had sworn.
Blood answered blood.
Ash answered ash.
And his oath would not break.