This Is a New Feeling.

I wake up to the feeling of something not being quite right.

As my eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, I notice them immediately.

My parents.

Standing in the corner of the room, their faces stretched into eerie smiles, lips moving silently whispering something I can't hear. Their eyes bore into mine, dark and endless.

Then, in the blink of an eye, they're gone.

I sit up abruptly sudden fear lacing through me, running a hand through my hair. "What the hell? Haha, great. I'm losing my mind now. Fantastic." I sigh, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Or maybe getting three Marks made me a special kind of crazy. Either way, not worth dwelling on because that will only lead to actually driving myself crazy.

Stretching, I roll my shoulders, testing the way my muscles move, the way my body feels - refreshed, stronger, complete. There's an ease to my movements now, a power thrumming beneath my skin that hadn't been there before. The very act of standing feels effortless, like gravity has loosened its hold on me.

I make my way downstairs, feet light against the floor, every sense heightened in a way that makes the world feel both sharper and slower at the same time. It's weird. Good, but weird.

By the time I push into the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat hits me like a brick wall, and my stomach growls in response. I'm starving. But before I can even reach for something to eat, I notice the way the servants look at me.

Their eyes track my every move, awe tangled with something else something almost hesitant. Marta, who had spent three weeks gleefully bossing me around, has a thin sheen of sweat on her brow, and the others stand a little too stiffly, like they're bracing for something.

Then, as if on cue, they bow their heads slightly. "Awakened Ayato."

I blink in surprise. "Okayyyyyyy who died and made me a king?""

Marta stiffens. "No one, sir."

Sir? Sir? I gape at her, but she only nods like I'm some kind of important figure now. The others do the same, their movements precise and practiced.

I laugh. "Right. Cool. Well, I'm gonna pretend that didn't just happen." I reach for an apple, biting into it before anyone can say anything else.

Marta clears her throat, casting a quick glance at the others before hesitantly saying, "Master Cain wished to see you once you woke up."

"Of course he does." I mutter, annoyed. 

I chew slowly, my sharpened senses picking up the subtle increase in their heart rates, the tension in their shoulders. They're scared. Of me.

I just nod, not bothering to say anything else as I turn on my heel and head toward Cain's office, tossing the apple from hand to hand.

So weird. This newfound sense of authority, of people treating me like I actually matter. It feels unnatural.

Maybe being an Elite isn't so bad after all.

I snort at the thought, shaking my head as I take another bite of my apple. 

As I take my time walking towards Cain's study the memory flickers in my mind like a dying ember, but the sensation is still vivid.

For those few seconds before Cain stopped me, I had felt something more powerful than anything I'd ever known. It wasn't just strength or speed it was control. Raw, absolute control. Their terror had been my instrument, and I had played them like a a conductor of some great play. The way their fears were twisted and defiled back unto them, the way they crumbled beneath it, left me teetering on the edge of something dangerously close to ecstasy.

I should be disturbed by that.

I should be questioning what the hell is wrong with me.

But I'm not.

They had it coming.

The Inquisitors, with their blind faith and unchecked cruelty sponsored and encouraged for centuries by the Imperial family, had spent years feeding on the suffering of others. All I did was let them taste their own poison.

Anger boils in me just thinking of those robed freaks. 

The Inquisitors those disgusting bastards.

The Imperial Family's personal fanatical army. They're the ones who keep the people in line, not with brute force though they're not above it clearly, but with something far more insidious: faith. Or at least, the twisted version of it that they shove down everyone's throats. The Will of the Divine, they call it. Conveniently, the will of the Divine just so happens to be whatever the Imperial Family decides it is. Funny how that works. 

They're not Elites. No one who bears a Mark of Power can ever join their ranks. That would make them dangerous in the wrong way. No, the Inquisitors are regular people; well, as regular as you can call them being out of their minds and all. Anyways their not just any regular people. They recruit from the lowest of the low: orphans, abandoned kids, those with no family and no past worth clinging to. People who have nothing to live for but what they're given. And what they're given is purpose, something greater than themselves something to dedicate their entire existence to. Something Divine 

And they do.

The training they go through is brutal, secretive, and all consuming. No one outside their ranks knows exactly what they go through, but from what I know. It breaks them down and builds them back up into something less than human. They come out of it fanatical, unwavering, absolutely convinced that they are the righteous hand of the Empire. At that point, you don't even need a leash they will just carry out the Gods will with glee. 

And that's exactly what they do. They serve as judge, jury, and executioner, policing the Empire with absolute authority. Corruption? They'll decide what qualifies. Dissent? They'll stamp it out before it can take root. Treason? Well, that's the easiest one to deal with just a rope and a noose ask Ma and Pops, or if they're feeling particularly silly, a public burning. The Divine's light demands sacrifice, after all. 

However there is one thing they don't do. They don't fight on the front lines. That's beneath them. Apparently, sending out clergy to die on the battlefield wouldn't be "holy." That's what Elites the so called Shepard's of humanity and the normal conscripted soldiers are for. They are the ones to spread the "Divine Will" through force, with the goal of burning every country on the continent to ash then rebuilding it with the flag of the Empire planted in the rubble. The Inquisitors don't fight wars. Oh no, they just make sure the populace that's already been conquered is too indoctrinated, too terrified, too faithful to ever think about starting one themselves.

As Cain's office comes into view, I take another bite of my apple, the crunch breaking the silence of the empty hall. The taste barely registers my mind is elsewhere, circling back to the only thing that matters.

How did I do it?

Whatever took over me in that moment, whatever power surged through me and shattered them so completely I still don't understand it. The memory is hazy, a blur of fear that wasn't mine, of whispers slithering through my mind, of bodies collapsing under non existent phantoms. 

But I will.

One way or another, I'll figure it out.