Chapter 150: The Arbiter’s Arrival
Scarcely had I given myself to the dark than I found myself standing in glorious light. My body felt light and free, meaning I existed only as a soul. Another vision? Or, perhaps, did I finally die? No, that would have been too easy. As guilty as I felt for the thought, I inwardly yearned for peace. For all the pain to finally end. The hope that I could live free had all but vanished the moment I met Slivera, and losing Elise nearly broke me.
She had survived, right? Once the infernal Mana Storm had descended, I lost track of everything, surrendering myself to the oblivion that awaited me. My memory of the last few minutes was dim, with many holes all over. What had I done, exactly? Why was there such a great weight in my heart?
Time was meaningless to a soul, but an eternity seemed to pass. It was dull, but at least I couldn’t feel anything. Truly, living numb was better than feeling. If I hadn’t met Elise, she would continued to bear her curse. She wouldn’t have been able to sacrifice herself to survive the curse. She would have fled with the other students, instead of sticking around to fight the cultists. Selena wouldn’t be threatened by inquisitors if she didn’t get my staff. I had nothing beyond patchy guesses as to the truth of her situation, but my soul stirred uncomfortably whenever I thought about her. Surely, she too would have been better off without me.
Soltair, Korra, Thron, Fyren. The list lengthened as my hidden doubts came to the surface. Wouldn’t it be better if I simply disappeared? Whatever I had done before I fainted had been bad. I knew that beyond any doubt. Perhaps the church would finally take action, helping me disappear once and for all. Soltair no longer needed me, nor did he want me. No one did.
Eventually, the endless light dissolved into ribbons of color, building a scene about me. Within seconds, I stood within the Upper Chapel, before the Shard of Omniscience. Dozens of fathers, dressed in all their affluent finery, bowed low before the crystal, reverent chanting prayers. The pope stood, his hands clasped behind his back, at the front, flanked by ten silver-robed inquisitors.
"He comes," the Pope murmured. His face had aged decades in the months since I’d seen him, with deep stress lines carved across brittle skin.
Moments later, the crystal blazed to light. The sudden illumination overwhelmed every shadow in the room, leaving every corner stark, without a sense of depth. The priests fell back before the blinding light, covering their eyes and hissing in pain. Only the pope and his inquisitors remained unmoved, staring earnestly up at the shard.
A single dot, bearing all the majesty of the sun, appeared ten feet off the ground. It dropped downward, leaving a brilliant slit in space, which slowly widened until it took the shape of an oval. A tremendous pressure leaked through the portal, freezing space itself. The inquisitors groaned, hands pressed to their chests as they struggled to breathe.
A figure emerged from the oval, hovering in the air and bathed in sunlight. Two feathered wings unfurled behind him, stretching out nearly a dozen feet. He wore white and red plate mail and had a great sword larger than Fyren’s sheathed on his back. Last of all, a golden amulet, featuring a winged man encircled by a ring, rested on his breastplate.