ANATHEMA - Inferno's Vow

Chapter XI: The Lord Scholar

 It was night. Dark as pitch and endless in the shimmering veil.

The sky was wild up above, where stars shone like burning eyes, peering across the Valley of the Somber Green. The moon was at third-quarter, a limbo between full and new. It carried a heavy presence in the sky. Not as thick and vibrant as the week prior -during the heist against the Freemans - but it still shone greater than any stars. The constellations were at war, dueling for the night. Streaks from shooting stars lingered in the cosmos, the strikes thrown across pantheons. They were foes, even in the sky.

The wind whipped at Ander's cloak, gripping the hem of his veil, threatening to tear it off. His bear pelt mantle had been washed to rid it of blood, but even after multiple rinses through Komer's Run, it still carried deep red patches. Pelts were supposed to be resistant to stains, but not this cloak. No amount of soap or lye would free it from its past.

The boy was mounted on horseback, his arms wrapped around his master, who urged his horse Gūllen deeper into the night. Around them stood the mighty oaks of Vern's forest, with the occasional Pine and Beech growth passing by. Beyond the walls of green, the shine of watchful eyes stared them down. They were red, glistening with the light of the stars and the moon. They all seemed... connected. Like they all belonged to a single mind, where one line of sight was broken, another would be forged. It was an eerie feeling, and the glows did nothing to calm Ander's nerves.

For tonight was his Mission of Solitude. His final test to enter the rest of his life.

"How are you feeling?"

Leon's voice carried poorly in the wind, but it reached his ears nonetheless. He was torn at the question. In honesty, he did feel nervous. But did he want his master to know that? He mulled over his response, crafting it perfectly to not raise any flags.

"Nervous, but ready," he replied in a strong, certain voice. It was the truth after all. His nerves did not concern his safety; passing was a guarantee. Rather, he had a dread of what was buried in him. His heart held a plague inside it, cloaked in black and shadow. It was a rage of his making, formed by suppressed fear. Formed by hate, and sorrow. It had reared its grim expression against the bear he wore on his back, and the fake man made by Sylas, and most recently, against the Freemans. He was fortunate that, with the Freemans, he did what was right. But that fortune was not absolute.

"I'm sorry, Ander," Leon began to apologize, again. His head was as clouded as the night of the raid. "I truly am. I-"

"Don't apologize for doing what is right, Leon," Ander stopped him before he could go on. He knew well his mentor's struggles. Ander mouthed words of assurance. "You taught me to be a swordsman, just as you had promised. It's not your fault that the honor of a swordsman and the life of a thief are at odds. I would rather toil over a rightful killing, than be ignorant in the slaughter of an innocent."

"You sound... certain. That's good, certainty in this world is a blissful thing. But if so, then why are you nervous?"

"Just because I know what I should do, does not mean I will do it," he confessed. "Anything can happen in an instant. Anything can happen when control slips our grips... But I have faith, just as I have faith in you."

"I couldn't have asked for a better student." Although Ander didn't see it, he knew a smile was held on Leon's veiled lips. The compliment brought him warmth. It was the first month of Autumn. The air during the day stayed warm, but beneath the moon, it threatened chills.

"We're not too far out now," Leon called, the reins of his horse held tight in his hands. Ander could feel the man's stress channeled through the draw of his horse."Run it all by me again. Show me you know your mission."