The hall was too bright.
Too open.
Too silent.
Evin stood in the center of a semicircle of power—Inquisitors in carved armor, Sanctifiers with their veiled faces trembling behind their chains, Observers clutching scripture-scrolls like they were shields. Behind them, knights formed a wall of steel and obedience.
Rell knelt beside him, chest heaving, one hand braced on the marble floor. Sweat dripped from his brow. Blood streaked down his cheek. But he did not move away.
He faced the Church with Evin.
That was the dangerous part.
The shadows behind Evin thickened—witnesses forming faint, human shapes that flickered in half-light. Their presence made the torches gutter. Made armor hum. Made scripture waver on the walls.
The Inquisitor's voice broke the silence.
"You have revealed your corruption to all of us."
Evin didn't flinch.
"I revealed your corruption."
Gasps.
Whispers.
A Sanctifier hissed in outrage.
The Inquisitor stepped forward, boots echoing against marble. He was calm. Too calm. His eyes were colder than iron.
"A host of remnants," he said softly, "means only one thing."
Evin waited.
"You are dying."
Rell's breath caught. "What—no—Evin, don't listen to him—"
The Sanctifier nearest them shook her head slowly. "Every remnant you carry consumes a piece of you. Eventually, there will be nothing left but echo."
Evin swallowed, throat tight.
He didn't know if it was true.
The Veil did not deny it.
"Even so," Evin said quietly, "I won't leave them."
The Inquisitor's gaze flicked to Rell.
"And what of the living?" he asked. "How many must die for the sake of your dead?"
Rell stood quickly, putting himself between Evin and the Inquisitor. His voice shook but didn't break.
"He didn't ask for any of this! You forced it on him—you burned him and left him—"
"Enough," the Inquisitor snapped.
He raised a hand.
Evin moved instantly, shadows rising in a desperate surge—
—but the collar flared with blinding heat.
Evin screamed, collapsing to one knee, hands clawing at his throat.
Rell lunged to catch him—
And the Inquisitor struck.
A single, precise blow of pure force—silent, invisible—hammered Rell in the chest. He flew back three meters, slamming into a marble pillar so hard the crack echoed down the hall. He collapsed, coughing blood, hands shaking violently as he struggled for breath.
"RELL!"
Evin tried to stand, but the collar blazed hotter, burning through flesh and muscle alike, sending him back to the ground. Shadows recoiled violently, scattering like torn cloth.
The Inquisitor lowered his hand.
"Do you see now, Evin Veylan?" he said coldly. "Everything you touch becomes contaminated. Everyone who protects you pays the price."
Rell tried to rise again.
Failed.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
But he still glared up at the Inquisitor.
"Touch him again," Rell groaned, "and I—swear—"
The Inquisitor didn't look at him.
He didn't need to.
Evin forced himself upright, trembling, collar searing like molten iron around his neck. He felt something wet on his chest—blood, his or someone else's, he wasn't sure.
The remnants stirred behind him, agitated, flickering in and out of cohesion. Their fear pressed into him—fear not for themselves, but for him.
He wasn't strong enough yet.
Not to protect Rell.
Not to protect them.
Not even to protect himself.
The Inquisitor raised his hand again.
"STOP!" Evin shouted, voice breaking.
The shadows surged instinctively—trying, failing, trying again. The collar dimmed just long enough for a shape to form behind Evin. A remnant—not a child this time. An adult. Broad shoulders. Half a face missing. The shape lunged at the Inquisitor—
—and dissolved instantly as scripture flashed across the hall like a wall of light.
The remnant's echo broke apart with a soundless scream.
Evin's heart shattered.
The Inquisitor looked almost disappointed. "They are fragments. Nothing more."
Evin stared at the fading afterimage of the remnant. "They were people."
"They were failures."
That word hit Evin harder than any blow.
Rell groaned again, trying to crawl toward Evin. "Don't… don't listen to him…"
The Inquisitor continued, voice dangerously soft, "The Church has one purpose: order. You are disorder. You are aberration. You are contagion."
He lifted his hand toward Rell.
"This one is proof."
"No." Evin's voice was a whisper. "Don't."
He took a step forward.
The collar ignited in blinding agony—
—but Evin kept walking.
One step.
Another.
Every movement carved fire through his throat and spine, but he didn't stop. Not while Rell lay there dying. Not while the Church looked down on him like a stain to be scrubbed away.
The remnants surged behind him, aligning in a single line—like a procession.
The Inquisitor watched, intrigued. "You would endure all this—for him?"
Evin's voice was ragged and furious. "I would endure more."
"And he would die anyway," the Inquisitor replied calmly. "You cannot shield the living with the dead."
Evin froze.
Rell coughed wetly, red splattering the marble. "Don't listen—don't let him—get in your head—"
"Enough," the Inquisitor said.
He flicked his wrist.
A second blast of force hammered Rell's chest.
He screamed—
a raw, broken sound—
and collapsed, unmoving, blood pooling beneath him.
Evin's world went silent.
The Veil collapsed inward like a dying star—
then exploded outward with enough force to shatter torches and crack the walls. The hall plunged into cold shadow.
Evin didn't breathe.
Couldn't.
Rell wasn't moving.
Rell's chest wasn't rising.
Rell's eyes stared glassy and unfocused.
Something tore inside Evin—cleanly, permanently—
and something else rushed into the fracture.
The Veil quivered, then solidified behind him. The remnants aligned as one, their shapes sharpening, their presence no longer flickering but anchored.
A final crack sounded—not from stone, but from inside Evin's chest.
He looked up at the Inquisitor.
Something new burned in his eyes.
Not power.
Not fury.
Not grief.
Purpose.
The Inquisitor stepped back for the first time.
"Ah," he whispered. "Now I see."
Evin took a step forward.
"You break," the Inquisitor said quietly, "and they become you."
Evin answered in a voice that didn't sound like his own—
"No."
Another step.
"They become us."
The hall shook.
Darkness rose.
And every witness followed.