Father Serek invites Elias to witness a private "cleansing rite" in the deeper sanctum. What Elias sees is not purification — but execution, disguised by hymns and incense. The victims are not heretics… they're broken souls the Church has deemed inconvenient. Elias is faced with a choice: watch in silence — or interrupt a holy rite with violence.
-----
The chapel door groaned shut behind him — not loud, but final.
Elias stood alone with Father Serek in the inner sanctum of Tarsis Theta.
The outer shrine had been all gold leaf and incense smoke.
This place… was stone.
Unpolished. Rough. Blackened from fire.
It wasn't beautiful.
It was honest.
A single altar sat in the center, surrounded by six iron sconces burning slow chemical flames.
The floor was bare save for a circle of chained kneeling pads — five of them, all occupied.
Five souls.
Four men. One woman.
They wore simple gray robes. Their heads were shaved. Their faces were blank. Not afraid.
Not aware.
They looked more asleep than present.
Elias recognized the look.
Shellshock.
But deeper.
Like the brain had simply… left.
Serek walked around the circle slowly, staff in one hand, the other raised in silent benediction.
"Each of these survivors witnessed the heresy. Lived through it. Felt its heat."
He paused beside the woman. She didn't blink.
"But they cannot be healed."
He gestured toward the flame.
"So they will be used."
Elias stepped closer.
"Used how?"
Serek looked at him, still smiling.
"To purge the last shadows. The echoes."
He turned and tapped the top of his staff once against the floor.
A hiss.
Then a cylinder rose from the ground behind the altar.
Within it: an iron brazier, covered in melted wax and dried blood.
Runes — real ones — marked the sides.
Not Imperial.
Not sanctioned.
They were binding glyphs.
Warp glyphs.
Elias froze.
"You're using them," he said slowly.
Serek inclined his head. "I'm completing them."
"You said they were touched."
"They were."
"Then burn them, if they're heretics."
"I just told you they aren't."
Serek smiled wider.
"And yet… they've seen too much. They remember too vividly. Their minds are… fractured."
He stepped into the center of the circle.
"And those cracks let the light through."
He raised his hand.
The guards behind the sanctum stepped forward — four of them now, each carrying flamer units with purity seals draped over the fuel tanks.
Elias's voice dropped.
"This isn't a rite. It's a cover-up."
Serek didn't flinch.
"You misunderstand."
He motioned to the victims.
"They are the final offering. A sacrifice made not to Chaos… but to contain it. Their deaths seal the breach. Their pain becomes prayer. Their blood becomes ward."
The System pulsed faintly in Elias's spine.
A feeling like heat pooling in his chest.
Warning.
But not from danger.
From a decision.
Elias took one step forward.
The guards reacted instantly — flamers raised, safeties off.
Serek gestured calmly.
"Stand down. He's only watching."
He turned to Elias.
"You are, aren't you?"
Elias stared at the kneeling five.
They hadn't moved.
Hadn't resisted.
They were already gone.
But what would they become?
Ash.
Fuel.
He looked Serek in the eye.
"Tell me this is sanctioned."
Serek shrugged.
"Does it matter?"
The first flamer ignited.
A gout of blue flame hissed to life, illuminating the black walls with ghostlight.
Elias felt his fingers twitch toward the knife at his back.
The System buzzed louder now — ready, but waiting.
Not guiding.
Not pushing.
Just whispering:
"Are you ready to burn too?"
He made his choice.
Elias moved.
[END OF PART 3]