Beyond the Rabbit Hole

Oathsworn

Golden hues of light peered through the window curtains beside the late lord commander's bed. A thin layer of dust settled atop the furniture. Benard stood looking over the bed with his eyes narrowed and his brow creased. Alyss and Morgyn stood silently behind him as he contemplated their words.

"If I hadn't been witnessing the miracles you two have performed these last few weeks, I would probably call you crazy." Benard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I might just say it anyway."

"It's the truth." Morgyn patted Benard's shoulder.

"Your. . . lack of humanity—for lack of a better word," Benard turned his head slightly. "Has been obvious from the beginning. But Grim Reapers? Death? Even I have trouble believing this." He glanced back at the bed. "And Isaaik's. . . spirit is right here in front of me?"

"It's all true," Alyss sighed. She walked over to the bed and waved her hand through the air. "I won't get the chance to punch him it would seem.

"And what does he want with me?" Benard asked.

Morgyn retrieved the letter from Isaaik's nightstand and handed it to the old soldier.

Benard scrutinized the emblem at the bottom of the parchment. "So Isaaik really was the Blood Saint Apostle." His voice trailed off. "Good riddance." He crumpled the letter and tossed it at the foot of the bed. "He can't hurt anyone else if he's dead."

Isaaik chuckled. "Remind him of the final order."

Morgyn clenched his fist and furrowed his brow. He took a deep breath and met Benard's gaze. "Isaaik told me to remind you of the 'final order.'"

Benard's eyes widened as he took a step back from the bed. "How do you. . ." He took a deep breath and shook his head. "He really is here, isn't he?"

"That's what we've been trying to tell you." Alyss shrugged. "Moreover, Benard, how do you know so much about the Blood Moon inquisition?"

Benard's brow tensed, and his lip quivered slightly. The creases on his face seemed to deepen as he attempted to find the words he needed to speak.

"Because Benard was a Blood Moon inquisitor once." Isaaik smirked. "Not a very talented one, mind you."

"You were a Blood Moon inquisitor?" Alyss blurted.

"I was not!" Benard retorted. Frustration began to distort his voice. He let out a deep breath. "Shortly after I left the academy in Meliades, they found me. They trained me—molded me. I was young and distraught. I wasn't thinking straight. But when I saw what they were doing to those orphans, I. . . They were children—little children!" His teeth dug into his lower lip until blood began to trickle down his chin.

"Benard?" Morgyn's face twisted with pain.

"What my predecessor did," Isaaik let out a deep breath. "Was monstrous, I'll admit. But it was necessary in laying the foundation."

"Necessary?" Alyss grit her teeth. "What did they do?"

"Torture." Benard spat.

"Intense training, rather." Isaaik retorted.

"They would remove our fingernails and toenails," Benard's voice wavered. "and they would make us fight each other with real blades."

"It may seem brutal, but high pain tolerance is necessary for a Blood Moon inquisitor," Isaaik shrugged.

"First to injure the opponent won and got to rest. The loser fought again, over and over until they won," Benard continued unfazed by the comments only the reapers could hear. "Or until they were the only one left alive who couldn't win a single fight."