A Cult of Personality (Solo)

[Nevin]

Nevin staggered back a few steps in shock at that statement. It made several things about what had happened that bloody night make sense - and something that the man had said also stuck in Nevin's head, jarring him as wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was. But the priest didn't seem to mind his shock, in fact he seemed to have expected it and was amused by it.

"I know my child, I know! It is quite astonishing and unbelievable, but it is true. In fact we attempted it once before, but an error and a lack of faith in the original chapter of the Church led to the ritual failing. However, it wasn't a complete failure - our Messiah walks because of it now, and some of us became disciples, to spread the word of Crimson." Nevin felt his heart turn to a solid mass of ice in his chest.

No. No no. Nonononono He did not want to accept it, did not want to even consider that it was possible. But what the twisted priest had said was unmistakable, the evidence undeniable. 'Some of us' - there were other survivors for sure now, Nevin hadn't thought about why the man thought he knew of the rituals before. Other survivors, and they thought that he was their Messiah, come to... To what? He didn't know, didn't care to know, and hoped he never would.

"My child, I can see that even knowing that we seek to bring our Lord back to this world that you hesitate to join us. Let me demonstrate to you then one of the boons that we have been given since our Messiah's arrival. No doubt you have been lost, defenseless and alone. With the Church you will. Never be alone for we are all accepting - and with the boons, never without a weapon to protect yourself." The priest lifted one hand up, and Nevin saw his skin bulge and twist, like something beneath the man's flesh was writhing, trying to escape. Then with a sickening sound the skin on his palm parted, and a red thread emerged.

And for the first time since he had come into this stinking, infested city, the singing of Nevin's magic stopped completely. The room was unnaturally quiet as the priest turned that smiling face towards Nevin. The threads snaking from his hand were only superficially like what Nevin himself could call forth - the Blood Mage's threes were a pure, vibrant red, crimson and scarlet mixing together.

What came forth from the priest was.. Tainted. Dark black streaks ran through them, perverting them, making them far darker than Nevin knew they should be. And they were meant to emerge painlessly, slipping from the skin in a smooth motion - the priest's seemed to have torn their way through his flesh, leaving bloody marks on his hand where they had ripped forth.

And Nevin's magic howled, defiance and rage coursing through him that the alchemist knew were not his own - and he did not care. He could stand the abomination, the corruption of his magic no more than his magic itself could. Fire coursed in his veins as the song came back to his skin, a furious clarion call to war bursting into existence that only he could hear.

"Not like that. They're not supposed to be like that." The words came out of his lips in a furious whisper, choked by his rage. Nevin knew now that this man absolutely must die - as would anyone else who had taken this 'boon', this perversion into themselves. The priest had gone unnaturally still, and it would only be later, thinking about the situation in the aftermath, that Nevin would realize that the other man had stopped breathing - that his heart had stopped beating even.

"What was that, my child?" There was a strange discordance to the man's voice as he spoke. His eyes, now a dark, mottled red and black all over, were focused fully on Nevin.