Chapter 5: The Chains of Fate

The village burned. Smoke rolled through the streets, thick and choking, painting the evening sky in shades of blood and ash. The screams had faded into the distance — the sound of slaughter moving away — but Alexis knew it wouldn't last. The Inquisitors were thorough. They wouldn't leave survivors.

And they wouldn't leave him.

He stood at the edge of the square, Mira's knife clenched tightly in his hand. Across from him, the Inquisitor advanced with slow, measured steps. His silver armor gleamed in the firelight, the blue cross emblazoned on his chest untouched by the filth of war. The sword in his hand was steady — patient.

"Why?" Alexis' voice came out hoarse, raw with anger and fear. "Why are you doing this?"

The Inquisitor tilted his head, his expression almost… curious. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

The man smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "You are an abomination, boy. A stain upon this world. Your very existence invites ruin — and we will see that stain wiped clean."

Alexis' grip tightened. "You killed my friends. You burned my home. And you call me the abomination?"

"You misunderstand." The Inquisitor raised his sword. "This is mercy."

He struck without warning.

Alexis barely managed to dodge, the blade flashing past his cheek. He felt the heat of the cut before the pain registered, but there was no time to react — the next attack came faster. He stumbled back, deflecting with his dagger, but the force of the blow sent him reeling.

The Inquisitor didn't press the attack. He waited, calm and composed, as Alexis fought to catch his breath. "You are weak," the man said. "I wonder… do you even know what sleeps inside you?"

Alexis' heart pounded. That power — the thing that had burst free back in Duskmoor — stirred at the Inquisitor's words. It was still distant, still locked away… but it was there.

Waiting.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said through gritted teeth.

"Liar."

The next attack came faster than the first. Alexis barely avoided it — the sword slicing through the air where his head had been moments before. He struck back, aiming for the gap in the man's armor — but the Inquisitor moved like a shadow, fluid and deadly.

Steel met steel. Sparks flew.

"You've been running a long time," the Inquisitor said, his voice calm even as their blades clashed. "But you cannot outrun fate."

"I'm not running," Alexis growled — and for the first time, he attacked.

He moved fast. Faster than he should have. Mira's knife danced in his hand, striking again and again — and this time, the Inquisitor had to retreat.

But Alexis was still too slow.

The opening came in an instant — a slip of balance, a fraction of a second — and the Inquisitor seized it. The flat of his sword slammed into Alexis' side, sending him sprawling. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, his vision swimming as he hit the ground hard.

The knife skittered from his grasp.

"Pathetic," the Inquisitor said softly. He stepped forward, raising his sword for the killing blow —

—and a stone struck him square in the face.

"Get away from him!"

Alexis' eyes snapped up. Laina stood at the edge of the square, her face pale but determined. In one hand, she held a broken piece of masonry — and in the other, a rusted old pitchfork.

The Inquisitor didn't even flinch. He turned toward her with terrifying calm. "Another heretic," he said. "No matter. The flames will take you all."

"No!" Alexis pushed himself up, but his body wouldn't cooperate. The pain was too much. The weakness was too much.

He saw the Inquisitor move toward her — slow, deliberate — and knew he wouldn't reach her in time.

But Laina didn't back down. She held her ground, lifting the pitchfork as the Inquisitor approached. "You think you can come into our home," she spat, "and take whatever you want? You think we'll just let you—"

The sword moved faster than she could react.

Alexis screamed.

Laina crumpled to the ground.

Something inside him snapped.

The air around him shifted — the heat of the flames bending inward, the ground trembling under his hands. That locked door inside him — the one that had been shut for so long — began to splinter.

Power surged through him, violent and terrible.

The Inquisitor turned back toward him, eyes widening. "No—"

Too late.

The world exploded.

A wave of force burst outward, shattering stone and flame alike. The Inquisitor was thrown back, his armor denting as he slammed into the far wall. The air shimmered red — a deep, burning crimson — and Alexis felt it rise inside him.

But it wasn't his power. Not entirely.

It was something older. Darker.

Finally, a voice whispered in his mind — low and cold and full of promise. You're waking up.

Alexis staggered to his feet. The air crackled around him, and the Inquisitor — for the first time — looked afraid.

But the power was slipping away as fast as it had come. The surge faded, and the weight of exhaustion crashed down on him.

He fell to his knees.

The Inquisitor rose, breathing heavily. "Not yet," he hissed. "Not yet, but soon."

Alexis tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. The Inquisitor advanced — sword raised — and this time, there was no one left to save him.

"Stop."

The voice cut through the air like a blade. The Inquisitor froze.

From the smoke and ruin, a figure emerged — robed and hooded, their face hidden in shadow. But the weight of their presence was undeniable. Even the Inquisitor seemed uncertain.

"This one is not yours," the stranger said. Their voice was low and calm, but there was an edge to it — something dangerous.

The Inquisitor's eyes narrowed. "He is an abomination."

"He is marked," the figure corrected. "And his fate is not yours to decide."

The air grew colder. The fire around them dimmed.

"You would defy the Church?" the Inquisitor asked quietly.

"I would defy anyone who oversteps their bounds," the stranger replied. "Leave, Inquisitor. You have done enough damage here."

For a long moment, no one moved. Then — slowly — the Inquisitor lowered his sword.

"This isn't over," he said, his eyes locked on Alexis. "The Church will not stop until he is ash."

He turned and walked away.

Only when the sound of his footsteps faded did the stranger finally approach. They knelt beside Alexis, their face still hidden. "You are not ready," they said softly. "But you will be."

Darkness closed in.

And Alexis Greaves knew nothing more.