The Holy and the Hollow

Date: Unknown
Location: Road outside Solrest
 
They never change.
 
His name was Inquisitor Vellan, though I only learned that after the shouting stopped. His presence gave him away long before his words did—robes too clean, blade too polished, eyes that glowed like he’d stared into the fire too long and decided it was his to command. A high-ranking emberborn of the Church. One of Solmara’s “true sons.”
 
He found me at a crossroads altar—a charred effigy of the Saint still stood there, arms outstretched in burned wood and iron nails. I’d stopped to rest, to listen, to remember.
 
He saw me kneeling beside it and didn’t even ask my name. He only hissed the word: “Abomination.”
 
I turned slowly. He had his sword already half-drawn, the blindfold pushed back so I could see the disgust in his eyes. I wanted to laugh—how much faith does it take to blind yourself for the Saint, only to peel it away when judgment feels too personal?
 
“You carry the mark of sin,” he said. “I smell the rot in your blood.”
 
“You smell your own hypocrisy,” I told him.
 
He spat scripture like it was flame. Told me Solmara’s light would not suffer me to live. That my magic, my blood, my very breath defied the natural order. That even now, I was proof of the Enduring Bastion’s divine wrath. He spoke with such certainty. Like killing me would earn him sainthood. Like my pain would be his salvation.
 
I let him finish.
 
Then I showed him what salvation really feels like.
 
Not the blade. Not fire. Not death.
 
I let him live.
 
I called the chains to my side, draped them in smoke, and stepped toward him without striking. I let the infernal power flicker in my gaze—let it fill the silence like a scream held just behind clenched teeth. He backed away. Trembling. Praying. Not fighting.
 
And I told him: “If your Saint still watches… tell her I remember the dungeon.”
 
He ran.
 
He’ll tell the Church. He’ll call me a monster. He’ll spin it like I fled. Like I feared her fire. But I know the truth. And so does he.
 
His faith cracked today.
 
And with time, maybe it’ll collapse.
 
I’ll light the match when it does.
 
—V