A Circuitous Interrogation

(An extract from Revenge of the Wraith Paladin #1)

“I am going to die, aren’t I?” Ara asked.

“No. You are free to go.”

“I am?”

“I have nothing to gain from your death.”

“But where will I go?”

“Where you choose to. Or wherever fate leads you to. Not my concern.”

Nazaar walked away towards the shadowy recesses, his figure growing more indistinct with each stride.

“You gave me something to suppress my suffering, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He paused.

“And it will not last, yes?”

“It won’t.”

“End this now.” Tears streamed down Ara’s cheek, eyes red with a depth of anguish far too mature for his age.

The figure turned back.

“Please.” Ara pleaded. “There is nothing left for me in this world. For anyone.”

The Grandmaster didn’t disagree.

“Please make it quick.” Each word emerged as both prayer and surrender, carrying the raw vulnerability of someone who understood his complete powerlessness in that moment.

The Grandmaster obliged.

Ara closed his eyes and felt something incorporeal being pulled away from him. He felt his skin shrivel. Pressure built up in his lungs. Bile clawed up his throat. His heart grew taut, and a bitter taste flooded his mouth.

He gave in, relinquishing himself to fate, and the world dissolved around him. Soon he would be united with his parents. Perhaps he would be born anew, in a better world. And maybe live a better life. As his life fled his body, he allowed himself that last sliver of hope.

---

Nazaar assimilated the raw essence that had constituted Ara’s soul, incorporating the meager nourishment it offered into his own desiccating body.

Thus denying him the privilege of resurrection for good.

Ara’s body, reduced to a withered shell, fell down with a thud. The pendant around his neck landed on the stone floor with a clink.

“Fucking wasteful, this blood sorcery.” Nazaar looked once at what remained of the boy and stooped down. At least his knees didn’t hurt anymore. With clawed hands he picked up the glimmering locket.

As his essence sight scanned through the contours of the locket, his lips curled up in a smirk.

“I killed your god, and you just fabricated new ones. How very predictable!”

He dropped it to the floor and rode out into the night.

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