Purity of the Blood

Light’s Reach 609 ATA

After a week of loneliness in some cold stone keep, Elric returned to the boy, a pair of women in shining brass armor behind him. Vicious whips, as well as a sword and dagger, hung from the belts of each woman. Their muscled physique, cold self-assurance, and fluid movements spoke of people acquainted with violence.

“I brought some friends, Rodrigo,” the noble announced, then winced. “We must do something about that disgrace of name soon. But, we’ll see about the necessity. May I present Sister Ayora, and her assistant.” Apparently the second woman’s name was below the Mikin’s notice.

The boy’s eyes widen. “You are Shadowscourges! I’ve seen you once, walking the Shadow District. Their armor was really bright in the sun.”

With an exasperated sigh, the noble left the room. The door closed with a resound bang behind him.

Ayora circled the boy, smiling coolly. “Our armor reflects our faith. It shines, just like the Light, at all times. Your benefactor asked our aid in investigating you, child. He rescued you from the Shadow District, a place of sin. A place where the Shadow tries to hide from the Light’s Justice. Just as you were hiding.”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Rodrigo froze, staring at the Scourge before him. She stopped circle, facing him. Her smile broadened as she leaned in, his fear paralyzing him further.

“Yes, child, the impure have every reason to fear the Light. You are a bastard, are you not? And hidden away in the district. One would think you’re Touched, and you have every reason to fear me.”

Something in her tone made the boy indignant, and a fragment of pride arouse. “My mother was a faithful follower of the Light and a Mikin. I have nothing to fear from you. My soul is pure.” Even so, there was a glimmer of doubt in his voice.

“We’ll see, child. We’ll see. For your sake, I hope so,” Ayora nearly whispered. She motioned towards her assistant, who removed her whip from her side. “What we do now, we do for you and for the Light. Remember that, and if your words aren’t lies you may yet prove yourself.”

There was a long pause. “Child, do you renounce the Shadow or are you Touched?”

“I am not Touched!” the boy shouted.

The whip arced out, its bladed edges sinking into the bastard’s flesh. Blood began flowing. There was a gasp from the child at the suddenness of the blow before he began crying.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked.

For a moment, a sign of distaste punctured Ayora’s composure. “We must be sure, child. We must take you to a brink, deny you of choices.” Slowly, with exaggerated care, she removed her dagger from her side and brandished it before him. “Are you a servant of the Shadow?”

“No. I follow the Light,” Rodrigo answered. His candor was rewarded by another whip stroke, and his flesh began to become flayed from the brutal weapon. His back appeared to be covered in red ooze. Despite this, he could feel the cold prick of the dagger at the side of his ribs.

“Can you channel the Shadow? Does your soul reach to places that it shouldn’t?” she prodded.

“No. No. No. No. No no no no no no,” chanted the boy, only to feel the dagger slice into his flesh several times.

Ayora stepped back, frowning. She looked at her assistant. “We’re losing him. Again, and do no stop.”

Amidst shrieks and crying, the Scourge-in-training whipped the boy until his back was a wreck. All the while, the Scourge began glowing a soft gold. Eventually, Rodrigo quieted, and then passed out.

“The child spoke the truth. His soul is pure. I didn’t feel him reach towards the Shadow to attempt to escape from our ministrations,” Ayora noted, moving to stand near the boy. “We ought to watch him, of course, as this is not conclusive – but usually the young have little control over their powers. Test them, torment them, and you can force their hands easily. Sadly, the innocent sometimes must suffer so that the faithful may flourish.”

“Of course, mistress,” the young woman replied, bowing her head.

“But truth deserve it’s own award, doesn’t it?” the Scourge mused, raising a hand over the boys back. Her hand began to glow, the same gold tinged with the red of the boy’s blood. As she moved it towards his back, the wounds began to close and the flesh began to knit. She stopped before the scar tissue could fade.

Ayora stepped aside for a moment, washing her hands in a bowl to remove the blood from them. “Awake the child,” she ordered.

The young woman shook the boy, and he quickly awoke. A brief yelp escaped his lips as he saw the Scourge. His fear was greeted with embarrassed amusement, Ayora’s smile warm for the first time.

“Child, as far as we can tell, you are free from the Shadow. We are done with you. I have left the marks of our endeavors upon you so that you may always remember your faith, and remember who is truly the villain.”

Eyes becoming starstruck again, Rodrigo could only nod as the Scourges departed.

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