Bishop had finished, it plunged its sword into the ground, the blade sinking through the flagstone of the street as if it were nothing but soil. A black light spread out like a ripple upon water. It traveled through buildings as it tore across the whole of the city. A moment later and there were sporadic screams, both near and far, coming from the streets and buildings. Across the road a man leapt from a second-story window, wailing maniacally as his body crashed to the ground. Nearby, a woman bolted from a doorway and then collapsed in the street. She curled up into a ball and began trembling and mumbling.
Fear would now stay any who might otherwise confront them, and Nuriel turned to her army of ghost-white Sin Eaters and Oracles. “Move out!”
Like a swarm of rats the Sin Eaters flooded into the streets, breaking off into groups. The woman balled up in the road was beset upon by a Sin Eater who plunged its sword into her before turning and moving into the house she came from, and Nuriel heard children scream. All down the avenues doors were kicked in. Shrieks and pained howls filled the air.
The six Bishops now moved forward, and Nuriel followed with her claymore at the ready. Nuriel’s job was to guard the Bishops and make sure they could perform their task unhindered. Her golden eyes flicked from building to building, alley to alley, watching for anybody who might attack. It was rare to find a man whose bravery could overcome the fear cast by the Bishop’s sword, but it had happened before. As they went down the avenue Nuriel could hear all the screams behind her; the commotion of people gripped by terror as swords were methodically plunged into their bodies, family member by family member.
Nuriel paid the sounds little attention. She had done this enough that it was all routine. In her eight years of personal service to Holy Father she had led Convocations more than a dozen times, and each time it was the same thing: they would enter the city over which the star had fallen and the Bishops would seek something out from within one of the homes. Nobody, save for Sanctuary’s Oracles and Sin Eaters, could be left alive, not even the Priest or the Saints of the city. It didn’t matter if they saw anything or not. Nobody could be left alive at the site of a Convocation. Nobody could take witness that it had ever happened.
What the Bishops took from these sites nobody really knew, not even Nuriel. She figured it was something to do with the awakening of the Goddess, but didn’t put too much thought into it. She once asked an Oracle what the word ‘convocation’ meant and was told that it was a gathering in answer to a summons. That was the extent of her own curiosity. If Holy Father wanted her to know more, he would tell her. Holy Father trusted Nuriel alone with the Convocations and it was an honor she did not take lightly.
But despite all the Convocations Nuriel had been party to, this one felt different—somehow more important—because it meant there was just one final chance for the Goddess to awaken from her eternal slumber, lest the world fall to an age of destruction. A Convocation always followed a falling star, and with only a single star remaining in the sky, the next Convocation would be the last, and it would herald the end times. The Bishops were silent and austere beings, but Nuriel thought she could sense a fever within them, as if they felt they could reach out and touch the very end of the world. And they wanted it.
Yes, this Convocation was different. Things would be changing, for better or worse, very soon. But what scenario was better? For some reason that image of Holy Father holding the fallen Goddess in his arms played across Nuriel’s mind, and she felt her grip tighten on her claymore. What if the Goddess were awakened? Would Holy Father still stand with her alone in the Holy Atrium holding her, or would she be replaced by the Goddess? Would Aeoria find her way into Admael’s arms
Fear would now stay any who might otherwise confront them, and Nuriel turned to her army of ghost-white Sin Eaters and Oracles. “Move out!”
Like a swarm of rats the Sin Eaters flooded into the streets, breaking off into groups. The woman balled up in the road was beset upon by a Sin Eater who plunged its sword into her before turning and moving into the house she came from, and Nuriel heard children scream. All down the avenues doors were kicked in. Shrieks and pained howls filled the air.
The six Bishops now moved forward, and Nuriel followed with her claymore at the ready. Nuriel’s job was to guard the Bishops and make sure they could perform their task unhindered. Her golden eyes flicked from building to building, alley to alley, watching for anybody who might attack. It was rare to find a man whose bravery could overcome the fear cast by the Bishop’s sword, but it had happened before. As they went down the avenue Nuriel could hear all the screams behind her; the commotion of people gripped by terror as swords were methodically plunged into their bodies, family member by family member.
Nuriel paid the sounds little attention. She had done this enough that it was all routine. In her eight years of personal service to Holy Father she had led Convocations more than a dozen times, and each time it was the same thing: they would enter the city over which the star had fallen and the Bishops would seek something out from within one of the homes. Nobody, save for Sanctuary’s Oracles and Sin Eaters, could be left alive, not even the Priest or the Saints of the city. It didn’t matter if they saw anything or not. Nobody could be left alive at the site of a Convocation. Nobody could take witness that it had ever happened.
What the Bishops took from these sites nobody really knew, not even Nuriel. She figured it was something to do with the awakening of the Goddess, but didn’t put too much thought into it. She once asked an Oracle what the word ‘convocation’ meant and was told that it was a gathering in answer to a summons. That was the extent of her own curiosity. If Holy Father wanted her to know more, he would tell her. Holy Father trusted Nuriel alone with the Convocations and it was an honor she did not take lightly.
But despite all the Convocations Nuriel had been party to, this one felt different—somehow more important—because it meant there was just one final chance for the Goddess to awaken from her eternal slumber, lest the world fall to an age of destruction. A Convocation always followed a falling star, and with only a single star remaining in the sky, the next Convocation would be the last, and it would herald the end times. The Bishops were silent and austere beings, but Nuriel thought she could sense a fever within them, as if they felt they could reach out and touch the very end of the world. And they wanted it.
Yes, this Convocation was different. Things would be changing, for better or worse, very soon. But what scenario was better? For some reason that image of Holy Father holding the fallen Goddess in his arms played across Nuriel’s mind, and she felt her grip tighten on her claymore. What if the Goddess were awakened? Would Holy Father still stand with her alone in the Holy Atrium holding her, or would she be replaced by the Goddess? Would Aeoria find her way into Admael’s arms
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