Where Ashes and Oaths Collide

Chapter 56: Spreading the Heat

“By the Gods,” Cassandra muttered, raising her shield instinctively. “That is no ordinary fire– it is magical in nature.” Luz’s amber eyes narrowed with calculation rather than panic. The prisoner’s ability to disrupt holy wards with fire was unexpected by potentially game changing. “Darm,” Luz ordered sharply over the growing crackle of flames. “Get closer– see if you can pinpoint the source of this energy signature. If this prisoner knows how to break holy barriers…” his voice trailed off as more flames exploded from the cathedral’s main entrance, illuminating figures fleeing into the marketplace. Among them were several escaped prisoners. As the cathedral started collapsing, an old man in tattered clothes and a dark blue cloak walked out of the large doorway.

“That is him,” Amelia said quickly. The old man’s presence commanded attention despite his ragged appearance. An aura of raw magical power radiated from him, visible even through the smoke and flames consuming the cathedral’s entrance. His eyes– one brown, one blue– scanned the marketplace with an ancient authority that made Luz’s senses prickle. “Darm,” Luz commanded sharply. “Analysis now. Tell me what we are dealing with.” Darm carefully stepped forward several paces before stopping, a look of dread covers his face. Leo and Cassandra positioned themselves defensively on either side of the man. “What are you?” Darm asked softly. “You broke down those wards like they were parchment.”

Amelia placed a hand on Luz’s shoulder. “He is with us,” she said softly. Luz’s entire body went still at her touch, the black steel of his armour seeming to vibrate under her hand. His amber gaze darted from the old man back to her face, searching for confirmation in her soft words. “He is with us?” Luz repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You have no idea what you are saying Amelia. He just destroyed holy ground with fire magic…” behind the old man, Leo drew both daggers with a sharp metallic sound. “Commander, if she is wrong about this guy, we need to take him down now before he decides o burn us all.” Supervivente gaze seemed so far away as he took a deliberate step forward, his powerful aura growing stronger as he approached Luz and Amelia. His gaze settled on Luz specifically, a knowing look in those mismatched eyes.

Amelia stepped forward, brushing pash Luz. “What the hell was that back there,” she complained casually. “Geeze. Give a girl a heads up before you burn down a building while she is in it.” A soft smile touches Supervivente lips. “Sorry,” he muttered with a hoarse voice. “My anger got the better of me.” He looked directly into Luz’s eyes and said a bit louder, “I apologize commander.” Luz’s armoured posture shifted slightly as he watched Amelia approach the old man with such casual familiarity. The tension in his shoulders eased marginally, though his amber eyes remained fixed on the powerful stranger with suspicion. “Ander?’ Luz’s voice was low and measured, carrying the weight of command even as confusion coloured his tone. “You destroyed a holy sit and put innocent lives at risk because of anger?”

He took a half-step forward, placing himself partially between Amelia and the unknown man. “Your identity and your purpose here are now my highest priority. Explain yourself before I decide whether to arrest you or execute you where you stand.” Behind Supervivente, Leo and Cassandra exchanged uneasy glances while Darm continued studying the old man with growing concern. The cathedral continued to crumble behind them, casting flickering orange light across the marketplace chaos. “I was captured and enslaved by slavers many years ago,” Supervivente began explaining. “They tortured us, starved us… they forced me to put up those magical boundaries.

The old man’s hoarse voice carried the weight of decades of suffering, and Luz’s amber gaze softened almost imperceptibly. The black veins along his jawline pulsed less violently as he listened to the account of torture and enslavement. “Years?” Luz repeated, his voice losing some of its commanding edge. “How long were you held captive?” his armoured hand moved instinctively toward the sword at his hip, though he did not draw it. The idea of slavers torturing prisoners within a holy sanctuary filled him with a familiar rage that had nothing to do with his position as the Corrompido commander. “Your name,” he demanded, though the word was less an order and more a request for information. “What is your name, and how did you survive that long under their control?”

“Supervivente,” the old man said and coughed. Sol came over and gave him a flask of water. Supervivente drank it hurriedly before speaking again. “I do not know how long. Before the cascade wars,” he said softly. “The Santo knights… they wanted information. As long as I did not tell them what they wanted to know, they let me live.” Luz’s face went utterly still at the mention of the Santo nights– the order he once commanded, the men who had sworn to protect the innocent. That they would have tortured this ancient mage for decades sent a cold fury through him. “The Santo Knights did this?” his voice was dangerously quiet, the amber in his eyes flaring with something far older than mere anger. “They branded you a heretic and broke you over decades?”

He took a step closer, his black armour creaking ominously. “Tell me their names. Every knight who participated in your torture. I will see them all hang before this is over.” Behind him, Lua shifted uncomfortable. “Commander, we should focus on the mission–” “Silence,” Luz cut him off without looking back. His entire being was now centred on this old man who had survived generations of cruelty. “Estrela,” Supervivente said. The name ‘Estrela’ struck Luz like a physical blow. His entire body went rigid, memories of his former life flashed through his mind– Estrela’s voice commanding executions, her cold eyes watching as prisoners were broken. “Estela,” he repeated through clenched teeth, his amber eyes blazing with hatred. “Commander of the Santo knights. The one who swore an oath to protect the innocent and uphold holy justice.”