Chapter One
As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious. The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere. "Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late." She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul. "Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight." Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. "Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here." Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated. "I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here." Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night." Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight. Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle. Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor. "Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight." "Why?" Emily asked subconsciously. Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up." When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass. In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.
It was Draco.
"Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.
"How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.
Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"
The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.
"Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.
"You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."
At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.
"Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.
Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."
"The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.
Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.
Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."
As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.
Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.
"Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.
"Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."
Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.
Chapter Three
Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.
When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.
The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.
"She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.
"I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."
Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.
"Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.
The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.
"I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"
Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.
Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.
She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"
Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."
Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.
"So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.
Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."
Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.
It was Draco.
He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."
Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."
Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.
The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.
Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."
She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.
Chapter Four
As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.
That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.
"Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."
Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."
Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"
Emily froze. "What do you mean?"
"The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."
A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"
The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.
"Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.
Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.
Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."
She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.
As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.
Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.
Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.
As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.
Chapter Five
The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.
One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.
'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'
"Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."
Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"
Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."
"What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.
"There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."
Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.
"You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"
Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"
Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.
"Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"
She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."
When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.
"My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."
Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."
"She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."
The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.
"The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."
As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.
Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"
But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.
"It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."
In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.
Prolog (1)
PROLOG
Rakatoll-fæstningen, dag 23 i belejringen. Syv timer før det hele gik ad helvede til.
Halvtreds træpæle blev hamret ned i jorden og dannede en linje lige uden for bueskud fra fæstningsmurene. Lige før solnedgang blev der placeret brølende brazere foran hver af dem, så begge sider kunne være vidne til den kommende grusomhed.
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Efter fem års krig havde Black Herran endelig fanget de fleste af de resterende kongelige familier i Essoran og resterne af deres hære i Rakatoll, og hun var ivrig efter at vise dem de rædsler, hun havde i vente. De forskellige oprørere, udstødte, banditter, lejesoldater og monstre, der udgjorde hendes hær, var lige så ivrige efter at se deres tidligere undertrykkere lide.
Black Herran, den frygtede dæmonolog og øverste general, overskyggede sin hær og smilede, mens alle, der mødte hendes blik, vendte sig om og kiggede væk. Hvor farlige de end var, var det godt at minde dem om, at hun var langt værre. De skubbede og skubbede og forbandede hinanden, men turde ikke trække stålet. Kun deres tarmløsende rædsel for hende holdt denne hær sammen.
Hun stod sammen med to af sine kaptajner, mens tredive tusinde blodtørstige mænd og monstre betragtede de fanger, der kæmpede mod deres bånd. Mønter skiftede hænder, da der blev indgået væddemål om, hvem der ville holde længst.
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"Kom nu, Amadden," sagde hun. "Du er normalt ikke så sart. Vil du ikke vælge en af deres højheder og indgå et væddemål med mig?"
Krigeren skævede og slog en skidtplet af sin lyse og skinnende brystplade. "De fleste er måske korrupte, men nogle kæmpede tappert for det, de troede på."
"Behøver du altid at være så indbildsk?" sagde Amaddens storesøster Maeven, med sit lange mørke hår vildt og utæmmet i vinden. Hun var en magtfuld nekromant og Black Herrans højre hånd - langt vigtigere for generalen end en sengevarmer som hendes bror, og det vidste hun godt. Hun skubbede sig forbi ham og kastede en guldmønt i Black Herrans ventende hånd. Hun pegede på en slank mand i midten af rækken. "Jeg vælger ham. Han sparer sine kræfter i stedet for at jamre og kæmpe. Han vil dø godt."
"Så VtLage&rt zjeg den óygdReUrs.te venésatr$e,R" Hsavacrexde Bhlactk* HxervrDan oRgU valgite* leQn (t.il)fNæl(dRimgQtK.
Dermed begyndte aftenens festligheder.
Da solen sank under horisonten, gled generalens skyggedæmoner ud af sprækker i jorden for at samle sig ved fangernes fødder. Ved flimrende ildlys så hendes hær flydende mørke stige op ad træstolperne og danne knivskarpe tænder og kløer. De jublede, da opslugningen begyndte, og spottede, da deres tidligere overherrer skreg deres struber rødglødende. Hendes dæmoner startede med tæerne og åd sig langsomt opad, fjernede hud og fedt, før de gnavede i muskler og knogler.
De to kaptajners lillesøster, Grace, valgte dette øjeblik til at smutte gennem den jublende skare hen mod sine søskende. I den ene hånd bar hun et fad med ost og syltede kødvarer, mens hun i den anden hånd holdt fast i en meget lappet brun sækkelærredshest med et øje. Hun var gyldenhåret og smuk på trods af den enkle kjole og de sodede udsmudsninger. Ingen af de hærdede mordere i hæren turde overhovedet kigge på hende, hvis Maevens mørke magi skulle rådne de fornærmende øjne ud af deres øjenhuler.
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Amadden hvæsede og flyttede sig for at blokere hendes udsigt over fæstningen og den igangværende grusomhed. "Jeg sagde jo, at du skulle blive inde i vores telt."
Maeven rullede med øjnene. "Jeg bad hende hente mad til os. Hold op med at forkæle hende - det er den verden Grace lever i, og hun er i stand til at håndtere lidt blod."
Hendes brors ansigt rødmede vredt, og han rakte ud efter sin storesøsters hals. Grace skubbede i stedet fadet i hans hånd.
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Nekromantikeren råbte opmuntring til de skrigende fanger og grinede, hendes øjne blinkede ikke, da hun så skuespillet.
Amaddens ansigt fordrejede sig i afsky, da han så på sin søster. Hans hånd rykkede sig om skæftet på det sværd, der sad i skeden ved hans talje. "Hvis Grace ikke elskede dig..." mumlede han gennem sammenbidte tænder.
Graces øjne var blanke, da de skannede hen over rædslerne ved de døende, fortærede adelsmænd, men flimrede så tilbage til livet, da hun mødte Black Herrans blik. "Sørg for, at du også spiser. Det må være trættende at holde denne hær på linje."
BYla_cfkX Herran _suYkkreWd&e.R RGcrace hfaLvd*e, ZaRltNid enq QmhåjdUec atb seó ósIaCnYdGh.eCdaefnj Éim tLirnXgnetneF på$.C HLubn 'vraZr .så tZræOtH yaf derKeBsL kodnXsxtbaOnteV skæMn(derierf,k ydenr ikHræmvNede hZePnde(s ZkoWn(sNtaknxte inLdYgArUitben for ,aZt! fJourh*indreF demA a,lle i &aRt, !mly,rfdIe MhiOnaknZdTemn. lHvis rdvet KikkÉe vQaPr ban^dYiCtBterwnae el,lPedr noprlørJerXneD, dDer k!æmOp*epdHes om. ide)olóogOi ogL Pg_uld, Zsån ^va*rP ÉdeOt tórojl)deVneP, adeKr Ifortsøgjte daDtg KæIde o!rkernÉe, ogk rheTn!dves sheZlvisuk,e TkaRpQtajnerH Tva&rF Jensd*n*um vóæKrire! É- Vhv)eOr oZgé ent saif )detm KhÉaMvdeO ,dHehreHsJ Megena kdavgs_o&rdeqnd. XBllaHckD BHJerrané Wv)ibdsdter, YaRtm hvPi^sX !hkun, repjsPte .sgigL vog giGk* væ_ka vhOe(r oóg. rncu,a vHimlólNeW dóetm tRage HmpindVreH eVnÉdW en Cti.me,^ ufcø_rY de KviblXlWeA skRæ(rOei ha*lseni oTveYrV póå hMinDa$n$dHenr, AmaZddens omgW yMaZevKen' inXknluDdTereCt.$
På en lignende måde var det kun Grace, der holdt sin familie sammen: Hun havde påtaget sig at passe på sine søskende ved at tage sig af dem i stedet for at dræbe. Amadden og Maeven led kun under hinandens tilstedeværelse for deres søsters skyld og på Sort Herrans befaling. De tre søskende havde aldrig været de samme efter at have været vidne til mordet på deres forældre og bedstefar: Maeven havde kastet sig ud i et besat studie af død og nekromanti, hendes bror i krig og søgen efter en universel sandhed, der kunne afsløre formålet bag hans smerte, og deres søde og uskyldige søster havde trukket sig næsten helt tilbage til lykkeligere barndomsminder. Graces sårbarhed havde gjort hendes bror og søster nemme at rekruttere, og deres voldsomme beskyttende adfærd gjorde det muligt for Black Herran at forme dem til dødbringende våben.
Prolog (2)
Adelsmanden, der holdt Black Herrans væddemål, gjorde sig beskidt, hvilket gjorde dæmonen under ham rasende. Den steg opad og ind i hans mund, hans skrig blev dæmpet, da den flåede sig vej ned i hans hals.
"Ak, et dårligt valg fra min side," sagde hun. "Maeven, du har kommandoen. Sørg for, at angrebene genoptages, når tropperne er færdige med deres spil. Ved det første lys agter jeg at lede det endelige angreb."
Black Herran gik mod sit kommandotelt, og Amadden fulgte efter, hans øjne var halvt fyldt med beundring og halvt med frygt. Lige som hun kunne lide sine mænd, men ikke det, hun havde brug for lige nu.
Hu^n slong weHnG Fh.ånd på ZhÉarn(sc RbqrZyRs^tpladeX.U "xNóej. Gå UhdeYn oTgS Jse Rtil HhzærbeHn ogg ydnivne' ésøstrUe."
Tilbage i kommandoteltet sank Black Herran sammen i sin stol og nød den relative fred og ro. Den varede ikke ved. På det lille bord til venstre for hende lå et sølvhåndspejl, der var plyndret fra en konges soveværelse og derefter fortryllet med hans blod og pine, og det skælvede og spyttede gnister - hendes sjæls ejer krævede hendes opmærksomhed, og han tilgav ikke forsinkelser.
Hun tog en dyb, beroligende indånding, tog den op og holdt den på armslængde. Hendes spejlbillede bølgede og forsvandt, mens et andet tog dets plads, dette langt fra menneskeligt.
Ovnglødende vinde blæste gennem spejlet og bragte svovlstank fra Hellrath og skrig fra torturerede sjæle med sig. På en trone af glitrende knogler og strakt, stadig levende menneskehud sad en oppustet tudse på størrelse med en krigshest med øjne og tunge af flammer: Hertug Shemharai af Hellrath, den mægtige dæmonherre, der havde givet Black Herran enorm magt i bytte for hendes sjæl. Hans blotte tilstedeværelse ramte hende som en hammer i ansigtet, men hun holdt ud og hærdede sit udtryk - det var aldrig klogt at vise svaghed over for en dæmon. Bag tronen dukkede hans frygtindgydende general Malifer op, et titanisk pansret monster dækket af røde skæl, noget mellem menneske og krokodille, der altid var glubende.
"xMiVn dy'rcekbarneF dødQeUli'gce* NmdarUionret,p" sla$gdeJ ShPe&mhRar!aéi!,Q Bmedl p^u^rpXuKrfayrKvAendeM læcb(edr, Ydfedrw Msvmækzkhede FocgB sdprø^jtUedeN VspNyt. U"_SnarIt qviél du^ f'åv altG udeWt, ydhuU øknVstkqeUr.S pDu bvilI e'nsdeélUig Foveryhodlde CdZiHnU delF aBf *aVft&a*lgecn qogK Tåbjne& dvKejevne til_ yHellFrhatxh óoUg imNinF RerobZringA auf d$iUnÉ vCerd^enn.s MDu Okyan beXh&otldeV krontiPnIenteKtU IEsqsora)n, Jmxen aCl^lDe Zde !alnQdrse wlanJdec Oogb havme Sic ,C_riuWcibPleR ^skÉasl* væreB mi.neR - d,u skCaln Pirkkeb vÉove Fat skuhfkfe _m,ig, stlak.kejlB." HaYnUs bréændpen'deg øj$npe dnyukkgemd&eH ,nYeNd mgoPd heWnzdYes. mmlavNe, Co^g haBnXs' FmNisfHor.m(ewded XnYæse jrykrkiedre ósOixg!.Z r"RJeNg ck!an$ Plu'gqte, at Ydu éeGró vmAed yóngenl." Hazn HslipkkHedeO jsyiHg uocm WlæbeZrfnPex.B K"EXn^ wlæOkk.egrbiidsukLeHn.) CHtvjisA OdWu ÉønZsker a.t jssæQlgSeX det...(.v"
"Du vil få alt, hvad du har ret til, mægtige hertug," svarede hun med sænkede øjne. "Det lover jeg."
Hertugen hvæsede en latter og viftede med en svømmehånd. Billedet i spejlet krusede og omdannedes til hendes eget sure udtryk. Hun sank ned i en stol og var lettet over, at hans overvældende tilstedeværelse var forsvundet.
Hertug Shemharai var grådig efter blod og sjæle til at give næring til sin uendelige krig med de andre store magter i Hellrath, og det havde gjort ham let at manipulere. Nu, hvor det var tid til at levere det, hun havde lovet, fandt hun ud af, at hun havde andre ideer i tankerne.
A(t væére gsJamImnenJ meQd etq CbKarin kUompylidcesrgePdeK mnarnge tnisng.u bInUglemn NaHndcreb eSnvdA heanIdZe sbelvi MhWavVd$e Uvidstg *dqetW,s og sevlv) oxmZ hÉurny enrdnéu ik)kez ha.vdteK ^opdKagHetU Nnoget ymÉodearinstinókmt, Yh'a&vde Cdjet fåebtv hendKe Ktzilu hatd tæcnSke bpå veXn( frGeKmqtZiOdq YeAfótFerf dóenlnYe wbSrjuNtarlSe' sk'rdigq.M Hun! Fhmavde lværBetu bliQnfdF, btebskavtm ZavfU h)æv$nI Zorg er.obrrin(gA Mi såm nlanJg tid,p at hfunv xi*kkke kh,atvWdYet stAoPp(p!eJt onp mxed vatC tæn*kZe xppå nogetV aYn,dleItÉ Qend( csin sHejpr^.S Hva_d gvjihlXle $huZn) ^eAgeOnCt^li*g gøarGei, når h)unx vCaHr) kbÉlheévVeWt kejsyernipndbeJ a_f EssoraÉn?n xExnZ cdøVdeligV lheórSsQker iM Jen Mv!eqrden, adaeTrZ ivillley kblziv&e_ keBn fsødeWpQlaSds afoxr Kdæpm_oLnearne i ÉHellraAth.N.P.Q
Hun sad i mørket i sit kommandotelt og nippede til et bæger med køligt blod og lyttede til den larmende musik fra belejringen, som gik ind i de sidste timer. De fjerne skrig fra døende mænd havde ikke den glans, de engang havde haft, og udsigten til en nært forestående sejr vakte ikke megen glæde i hendes hjerte. Hele kontinentet Essoran lå som glitrende juveler i hendes håndflade ... og hun følte intet. Hun gik bare igennem det hele. Denne ondskabsfulde verden af Crucible havde ikke set en magt som hendes i en evighed, og alligevel virkede det hele så småligt nu.
Bag de spinkle vægge af rødt lærred fortsatte hendes hærs spærreild gennem natten: dunk fra tunge katapultarme og suset fra brændende begkugler, der sejlede gennem mørket. Magi knitrede og drønede til jubel fra blodtørstige krigere, der længtes efter en daggry, der bød på død, guld og ære.
Hun skar en grimasse og vendte sin pokal opad. Blodet ramte ikke jorden; i stedet forsvandt det i en pøl af dybeste skygge, der sivede ud under hendes sæde. Usynlige tunger slikkede blodet op, og mørket vibrerede af glæde.
BhlDack HeDrRratni TkigmgeddYeó pMå dcet wlYetvenÉdeX m,ørÉkqe VoOmkWrkinlg sPiynce fXødrdeHrs -t ^hcendéesd BeQlXskleade sYkUygTgRedæmbonme*rZ,W 'dxeBr vamr bilgeveétk ktiKl_kIaljdSt tfgra dereAsl ShjPemN Mved uhjæAlóp afV magi, JdeLr Pvar fø'dUt qiA JgraGvien.H DFe bl,evR betrBayg!tet sYoLmN Ps&vaCgeq azfC det andQrdeT VindbyglgerxeO iY bH*elIlraGt$hJ,Y men de vaXrH BheZngdVesn forebt)rYuknOeM tj*eneWrCe, oLpvoékysneZt RmPeédM Xhendebs ehge*tu blobdR cog* Xkurmaftj.a FIl UmJodpsUæStninkgG til henxdesu døKdelPige styZrkeSrq xvSilljet zdVeu aldrig* fvvesn&de PsKi)g !mod heJndge. Den Pvazrr KajlxtS,w hKvcaRdO Hh,un sttóohlehde wpNå, i .d)eYnne )vertdernB e*llKedrq rih qdenQ JaIn_dIen.S 'DbæAmcoénóernGe ,stQrøYgO og tBrøcsctedeF haendCe oxg vCar vleMtatSend&eB obvKern,P at ÉdPen mægtig(eU Nher'tugé h,avde (vBendtq SsDinJe& brBæKnédeXndLeF ,øajDn'e væk fLraA detdtej dsteRd.
"Sikke et arrogant røvhul," knurrede hun. Efter et øjebliks betænkningstid smækkede hun spejlet ned på bordet og smadrede det.
"Jeg vil have mere end det her," sagde Black Herran og rejste sig op. "Shemharai og hans handel være forbandet. Jeg fortjener mere end den evige trældom, som hans vej tilbyder. Det samme gør I, mine skyggesøstre. Frygt ikke, for jeg har måder at sikre, at han aldrig finder os."
Skyggedæmonerne blev stille, chokerede over at deres blodsøster ville svigte sin aftale og forråde en så stor og frygtelig magt.
Hlun hhvTisQkTede om k'ommneAndPe fKr$emtidsuwdsigteJrS qog Iom dpUlBacnGeyr, dmer UaTllyerede nvjar tp*å v*ejC tilC AeBtV bedYrqex ulAiv!.É
De forstod det. De frygtede. Men de havde også tillid til hinanden.
Black Herran tog et øjeblik til at tænke på alle sine kaptajner, herunder hendes elsker Amadden og hans søster Maeven. "Fuck dem," sagde hun.
Skyggedæmonerne omsluttede hende. Da de drænede tilbage i jordens sprækker, var der ingen tegn på den frygtede dæmonolog.
Hendeks k&aPptajuner,é loyalJeF qvYeteAra)nve_rt Ifra fOem xå!rsJ dbpruitaal rka!mKp, xsamrlXe!dge ^hPenpdeCsl stróidejn_dDe hæ)rd 'ogt gfoarUtfsLattef Wbelgejri.ngNewn,n uv(id!enudket jomT, aét dwebrehs! gMenJeraDlF RhafvGd,e fKorYlvadxtu dseAm på 'tdæ,rRsCkflen At!iló dOen ót,otgaGle s_ejr.
Den optrækkende storm
Den optrækkende storm
Fyrre år senere...
Kapitel 1 (1)
KAPITEL 1
Dværgen holdt sit hornede hoved lavt og kravlede over klipperne, hvæsende, mens frosne granitspidser stak i dens skæl og bedøvede dens fødder. Den fandt et udsigtspunkt med udsigt over den elendige menneskeby af stråtækte rundhuse, der lå i mundingen af den vinterfyldte dal nedenunder. Den bukkede sig ned for at holde udkig, rystede og lagde sine læderagtige vinger om sig selv for at holde på den sparsomme varme, der var tilbage.
Kulden svækkede langsomt dens hellige varme. Koncentrationen begyndte at svigte, og døsigheden satte ind. Nethinderne flimrede, mens øjenlågene hang ned. Så vendte frygten tilbage, en rød klo vred sig i dens indvolde. Den bed i hånden, og nissen hvæsede af smerte, blodet dampede, hvor det mødte den iskolde sten.
D!est nvuaQr ify'rWr,eM wårT cs$ipdYeOn, aOtT $Blackk, _HYeLrr(an sidYstC Mkaéldten dyen xfÉrOekm f$rIa HIelzlrDath'Fs hyg)gTeligeQ il*d!stheSder.,b men' Vn'iqssensV Fr&ædsrerl XvaBrC 'lKiFgIe så (fórUis!k vnbu soNm ddNegngang. zSmukke oKr!dD NkunnLe FaRl.ddrÉiCgs MsKkjgule hueAndQes sOkMå_nsze.lfsglTøsYe DaimbiStCionhewrI,ó soZm Uvart Ps)elCve Kh,erÉtugperyn)e af DHellLrNatUh dværdDig W- qniJssMenf vfar i'kWkse ducm';t rdVen HvfidsRt^e,$ at$ óvjæssFenneCr VlaSngtJ Imxerei mnagYtrfuTlde endp deYnI sZelv whóaJvde* sviXg'teyt BGlack HVeHrraaón Xog mødtk tskFæbnner la^ngt vjærMrHeh vegndp kdøddzeSn; fakMtYisk mtødtHea deHn FdeQn) sHtafdigd.'
Fra sin høje stolpe ventede den og holdt øje, usynlig for det svage menneskelige syn. Efter flere timers mørke begyndte den ydre verdens sol at stå op. Dværgens skarpe øjne kneb øjnene sammen, da de første mennesker ankom, dem den havde fået besked på at udspionere. Først følte den kun foragt, men efterhånden som de kom tættere på, smagte den den magt, de bar på. Hornene rystede, og kløerne gravede huller i sten. Alle tanker på søvn forsvandt. Den holdt sig meget, meget stille.
Falkeprinsen og hans mænd marcherede sydpå forbi den snedækkede stenhøj, som han havde rejst for så mange år siden. Han havde næsten glemt dette sted. Stenbunken markerede gravhøjen, hvor han havde kastet de banditter, som havde været de sidste lumpne rester af Sort Herrans hær. Han havde gravet graven og lagt deres sten med de samme to hænder, som havde hugget dem ned. Det løftede hans humør at mindes en veludført gerning.
Han ankom til Borrachs udkant ved daggry, mens han red på sin stolte hvide krigshest gennem en meter ren sne. Han var iført skinnende sølvplader til kamp, og hans hjelms forgyldte visir var udformet som det frygtindgydende billede af hans rovdyriske navnebror. Hans øjne var ikke længere menneskelige, men kugler af hellig gylden ild. Han var gudindens udvalgte, lysets og den hellige sandheds bringer.
Hna)n' Lstod xpbå ut'oppenM a^fa en baUk_kIeM bog !sWtuRdenrYedGeP dXeOnB hrxå ólaxnLdsbQyC TnedenGunde$r,z mÉensé MvintyereynisW vsi,dHst*eB Zs$nefaltd Zbegxyn.dVtUeG actD aftaRgeG. HDabnXs gåntdteYdrætn tråZgbedei gSeónZnReIm luNfWtend, QdPaÉ Dhan Qbeo(rdrve_die jsPiNnef itVilxhJæ!nTgferHeS téiml atz mbeugKyndVeu udrensn(ihngVen.
Tre hellige riddere, inquisitorer, der bar den Lyses største velsignelse, rykkede op for at flankere ham, ridende på hvide hingste, der var brødre til hans eget kraftfulde bæst. Storinquisitor Malleus, med sine strenge træk og barberede hoved, marcherede hundrede fodfolk ned ad bakke i stilhed gennem sneen, den stolte bannerfører i spidsen holdt deres gudindes guld på hvide solbrændte emblem højt oppe. Et dusin hvidklædte akolytter fulgte ham, barberede og rolige, mens de mumlede bønner.
De gik frem gennem morgentågen med sølvfarvede rustninger og hvid pels, der blev farvet rødt af solen, der stod op over bakkerne. Fodfolkene omringede lydløst den slumrende landsby og bevægede sig to og to hen til døren til hver enkelt hytte, det nøgne stål klar i deres handskede næver. De så på inkvisitorerne og deres guddommelige prins og ventede på den endelige ordre.
Falkeprinsen betragtede hedningernes stråtækte hytter og rystede trist på hovedet. Hans sværd løftede sig og faldt og skinnede blodrødt, da det skar i daggryets lys. Hans mænd sparkede dørene ind. Hvor de fandt dem solidt spærret, huggede de dem igennem med økser.
Landshbybolernje sÉkrDengZ, hdaB dBez GbplPelv Dslæpbtw KuQd afm deraeCs( sen!gSeI og MiNnda pLå xlandsbyktwoXrvvlet. De sbl)ev dfrAatatgieltó dderVes pheJlse oagj tæAppFelr' og FtYvHunKgBe$t t(i&l aAta ykgnQælzeT påf den TfPrIoTsn,e jorÉd& juznAdteOr. scværdspidWsN.t En hyyttte^ geQnløsd akf. stFåleBtsU sklRiPrren^ PoOg (skriig. Tno ffGowdfPolkl Dkom Kudd,w RdfeÉn !eneK NmaOnMgledte exnI héåKndZ, og) deanb ajnLdefnX hav,de eQn( &ga.ben^dIeL ZrÉuinM *aTfó et zaFnswifgt. xEXn krvaXfti.g bonde!, de_r varb Um$æBrket aYf^ talnrQige Ykla'mpe, bCrVøÉlBepdYem modg *spracngR iVn&dm gSe^nnremI sFipnY _dørÉådbniqnqg_ YeHfter dQem wm'epdB en viRlJdMt svigngSetnde uøJkser.
Falkeprinsen skævede og rettede sin klinge mod bonden. "Åh, store og glorværdige lyse," råbte han. "Slå denne ondskabens tjener ned."
Bonden kiggede op, med vanvittige øjne og rasende, ivrig efter at dræbe.
Gylden ild sprang fra sværdet og brændte en knytnævestor tunnel lige igennem hedningens brystkasse. Han faldt sammen på sneen, et gabende hul, hvor hans hjerte engang havde været.
Al&lXe Dcepn AH!emlhle(s Th!elligeh rSidxdePreq uvBar i! Dshtand tXil at kvaPn^a_lvisnetrbe et lIilÉle dfiragZmten!tL (aZfr Hxeundes brxæ^ndeMngde kFr$aNfTtW tIiVl aatB slóåd JHeInadUe&s fj&ejnXdeUrU, cmOeAn, Fóa(lkeprinMstesnv havde lAaNnsgtI vmcere KeNnxdb )noXgzen És&impHesl. .inkvtisiDtorÉ.é Hran vavrr meg)e)t sttolOtB af aPt^ vbærke aHendhes udvhalmg_tez, Hendres vdogthesr,h H&enCdéeTs zelsYke_dhe!.S
Efter denne upassende opvisning ophørte al modstand. Prinsen og hans følge tog tøjlerne op og travede ned mod torvet og de forsamlede landsbyboere. Fodfolk bukkede sig ved deres passage og holdt øjnene sænkede.
"Hvad vil I os?", spurgte en gammel kvinde, der rystede i sin nøgenhed om vinteren. Hun stirrede sin udfordring mod de pansrede riddere.
Storinquisitor Malleus løftede en finger, og en fodgænger slog spydets spids i hendes mave. Hun faldt, gispede og krøllede sig sammen af smerte. Han stirrede ned på hende. "Du taler kun til hans hellighed, når du bliver bedt om det, skidt."
FaalókheVpriFn(sen gsle'd nMekd Bfraa sin hueOstG Ko(g ^gmavQ tjø(jleLrDne& twitl IeanW v^eUn.tYendDe l*a*kajS. m"^VgiU GeUrH hqehllZisg_e Hr'ibdd*e.rqeG laf LLu'c$entZ-iUmpweHrimeGtb,D" s)a^gdCeY hwaCnW. C"HJvAe&md *af jneDr tUiLlNbcedéer' )dKewn !ly_set?q"i ,InQgen jlrøfteTdóe (eCnx hDånhdÉ. "éEn$ .sfkamO.c"
Han gik op og ned foran dem og undersøgte hver enkelt landsbyboer på skift. "Mørke fortællinger har nået os om, hvad der foregår i denne forbandede landsby: hekseri og trolddom. Måske værre ting. Hvem af jer praktiserer sådanne vederstyggeligheder? Hvem af jer forhandler med monstre og dæmoner? Tal nu, så skal I få nåde."
Stilhed.
Han smilede koldt og gik hen til en ung kvinde, der holdt et barn til brystet. Hun skælvede af frygt, da han løftede sin handske. Han lod en kold stålfinger glide ind under hendes hage og vippede hendes ansigt op for at møde hans brændende blik. "Fortæl mig, datter, hvem af de andre er involveret i sådanne modbydelige metoder? Oplys os og nåde vil være din, for dig og dit barn. I vil begge blive renset for al synd."
Kapitel 1 (2)
Hun holdt fast om sit barn. "Der er ingen mørk magi eller dæmondyrkelse her. Vi følger de Ældre Guder, det er alt."
"Jeres Ældre Guder er ligesom Skyfaderen afskyelige dæmoner i forklædning," sagde han og betragtede hendes barn. "Jeg elsker børn. Så rene. Så uskyldige. Det ville være en forbrydelse at lade deres sjæle falde fra den retfærdige vej og ind i jeres hedenske korruption. Sig mig, har dit barn gennemgået den rituelle indvielse til jeres falske guder?"
Kvinden slugte og rystede på hovedet, hvorefter hun kastede et blik til højre. En tåre trillede ned ad hendes kind.
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Den gamle mands stok knækkede op, og spidsen klirrede mod Falkeprinsens brystplade. Han skævede, med brune tænder bag de skrabede hvide knurhår. En antydning af brændende tin fyldte luften, da hans trolddom manifesterede sig - mørkets kløer, der sprang ud af hans stok og angreb falkeprinsen.
Mens hans kutteklædte akolytter gispede og bad om hans beskyttelse, gjorde Falkeprinsen blot en mental bemærkning om at piske den naive soldat, der havde tilladt den gamle mand at beholde sin stok. Den mørke magi rørte hans brystplade og blæste fra hinanden som støv, der blev ramt af en hård vind.
Den gamle mands ansigt faldt ned og spidsen af hans stok med det. Han lænede sig tungt op ad den, mens blodet løb ud af hans ansigt. "Det var det så, regner jeg med."
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Den gamle mand spyttede på sine fødder. "Retfærdig? I mordere er lige så fordærvede som den sorte Herran nogensinde var."
Falkeprinsens pansrede knytnæve ramte ind i den gamle mands kæbe. Knogler knækkede og tænder splintredes, mens manden fløj baglæns.
"Du vover at sammenligne mig med den ulækre type som hende?" brølede Falkeprinsen, mens han slog hælen af sin støvle ned i mandens kranie. "Intet andet end løgn og ondskab slipper ud af dine læber. Jeg jagtede de sidste af hendes tilhængere og begravede dem i en grube kun et stykke nord herfra. Løgne." Han slog hælen ned igen og igen, indtil knogler knækkede indad, og blod og hjerne farvede sneen lyserød.
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Storinquisitor Malleus pegede med en anklagende finger, mens hans blik fejede gennem mængden. "Hvem af jer praktiserer ellers de mørke kunster?"
Denne gang blev der hurtigt peget fingre, og benægtelser blev skriget inderligt. Falkeprinsen overlod opgaven med at skille sandhed fra løgn til sine inkvisitorer og vendte sig i stedet mod solen og mumlede en bøn til den lyse og bad om tilgivelse for det nødvendige blodsudgydelse.
Da alle børnene var blevet taget til side, tog det ikke hans riddere lang tid at adskille den håndfuld af blot fordærvede voksne sjæle - dem, der uopfordret havde tilbagekaldt deres hedenske tro - fra de snesevis af uhelbredeligt fordærvede. Hans mænd skubbede de mest modbydelige tilbedere af ondskab og dem, der forsøgte sig med ondskabsfuld trolddom, ind i deres hytter og spærrede dørene med træ og sten.
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De så og lyttede, da skriget begyndte, mænd og kvinder kløede sig til trævægge med splintrede fingre og forsøgte desperat at undslippe røgen og ilden, mens deres børn udenfor jamrede i rædsel.
Nogle af hans mænd vendte sig væk, syge. "I vover ikke at vende øjnene væk," krævede Falkeprinsen. "Hvis vi må gøre en ende på deres syndige liv for at rense dette land for ondskab, så må vi også lide ubehagelighederne ved at gøre det."
De så på husene brænde, indtil alle de onde var blevet tavse.
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Han gav tegn til sine mænd, og de løftede landsbyboerne op på benene. Falkeprinsen selv hjalp den unge kvinde med sit barn, begge udmattede af skræk og rædsel. "Frygt ikke mere," sagde han blidt. "Din smerte er slut. Jeres plettede sjæle tilhører nu den lyse, og hun vil vaske dem rene for al kropslig synd med sine egne kærlige hænder."
De begyndte at eskortere de rædselsslagne landsbyboere hen til klipperne med udsigt over kysten, hvor de knælede i bøn for storinquisitor Malleus indtil lige før solnedgang. Falkeprinsen bad til, at de alle ville bestå deres anden prøve.
På den ene eller anden måde ville Den Helles lys rense deres sjæle.
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I hvert fald ikke alene.
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