They took Eron at sunrise. Not dragged, not bound, not screaming.
That was the cruelest part.
He walked between the church knights with his head high, hands folded neatly in front of him, wearing the pale training cloak they had given him as if it were simply another uniform he was expected to grow into.
Kael watched from the balcony, fingers biting into stone hard enough to c***k it.
They didn’t exile him, Kael realized grimly.
They institutionalized him.
That was always the church’s preference.
“You will not interfere,” the High Investigator had said calmly. “This is not punishment. It is preparation.”
Preparation to become what they wanted.
Kael turned away before Eron could look up and see him watching. He couldn’t afford that weakness. Not now.
Because the moment Eron crosse
