The Blade Witch: Songs of Eldrin, Book 0.5

Prologue I - Scorching Faith

The world was burning. Tortured shadows danced through the stained-glass windows of the convent, casting wild shadows on the women huddled below. Their prayers to the Twelve Enlightened echoed through the high rafters, combining in a loud hum that failed to drown out the horrid screams cascading all around them. Estra knelt with her eyes clenched shut, reciting passages from The Exaid through a soot-choked throat.

Every breath she took brought more of the searing ash into her lungs, turning her vocals into coarse sand. Her knees were stiffened from the hard marble flooring and her fingers ached from clutching nervously at her twelve-pillar pendant. She was blind to her surroundings, but she could still hear the death wails of men meeting with the tormented cries of women just on the other side of the convent walls.

As the seconds passed she wondered when it would be her turn to suffer. Estra had never known fear like this. Her life had been a peaceful one, filled with piety and play at the small place of worship overlooking the city. Tonight, it seemed that all of hell's darkness had been set loose upon her world as repayment for all the years she'd been allowed to live in blissful serenity.

The heretics had come out of nowhere to wreak havoc. The sisters had been conversing in the clifftop gardens overlooking the distant city of Wulfdonria, just like any other day, when fire had come raining down from the sky to scorch the ground and all who stood upon it. In the space of a few moments, Estra had seen the most profane things, the likes of which she'd thought herself forever sheltered from.

She'd watched those that she called friends flail around helplessly, with flames roaring at their backs while the guards rushed them back to the safety of the convent's walls. Through the windows, Estra had watched as the men, women, and children who traveled to the convent for worship were cut down as if they were nothing more than livestock for the slaughter. The faces of the heretics had been too numerous to count, but she would never forget the emblem emblazoned on their coats. A broken pillar, embroidered in crimson, that she would come to know as the mark of heretics.

Estra looked around, taking in the conditions of the other nuns. All of them were distraught, some groaned from the injuries they'd sustained. Worst of it all was the body a girl she'd come to know well, splayed at the foot of the altar in a grotesque posture as if to signify the fall of the holy place.

The moment her eyes met the sight, Estra dropped the pendant, clasping her hands together as a familiar tingling sensation coursed through her palms. The pain came rushing into her head, speaking to her, whispering foreign words with no meaning. Estra struggled to calm the growing tremor in her mind, focusing solely on quieting the whirlwind of thoughts that plagued her. Something clutched at Estra's thigh, causing her to pull away in fear before she looked over and saw her mother favoring her with a sad smile.

The Holy Mother was a beautiful woman with flowing blonde hair and ghost blue eyes that always seemed to shine with kindness. A stark contrast to Estra's jet black tangles and hazel eyes. Every member of the convent referred to her as mother, but only to Estra had she given birth. Growing up a bastard child in a religious community was never easy, but sadly, it was far from uncommon. It was all too often that sisters became victims when battles raged, only to suffer further when their bellies swelled in the following months. Estra wondered if that same fate might befall her soon.

"Estra," her mother said, reaching for her hands. The other sisters continued praying with their heads bowed, but the Holy Mother's attention was solely on her. The woman didn't shake, nor did her stature falter, but there was something odd to the look in her eyes. They spoke of regret, an emotion Estra had never seen there before. "I've waited too long to-"