The prophet poked at the fire with a stick, as if he had suddenly forgotten Darius was there. Darius watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he lied or not. The man’s face, pale, thin, and lit by red eyes that glowed with fire, changed with every passing second. By the time he turned around and smiled, he appeared a new man, his cheeks wider, his lips thinner, and his chin longer. The eyes remained the same.

“What did our Lord say?” asked the man with the ever-changing face.

“He wished me to obey.”

“As I said you would one day.”

Darius glared.

“He said to obey him, not you. You do not speak his will. You’ve led us astray, all of us. You’re a relic, a man lost in a different time.”

Velixar resumed poking the fire with his stick, talking all the while.

“Serve Karak through serving me. Even children can understand this concept. You have felt Karak’s fury, yet you still deny you failed him? Still believe that you know his true heart and will? You amuse me, Darius, as much as you disappoint me. Sit awhile with me by the fire.”

Reluctantly, Darius stabbed his sword into the dirt and did as he was asked. He swore the air grew colder around the prophet, and he felt his insides twist at their proximity. As he sat, Velixar pointed to the fire, where he’d drawn several runes with his stick. The flames swirled, deepened, and then suddenly opened onto a vision of another place, one also filled with shadows and fire. Standing amid a great chasm of men, his obsidian armor gleaming, was Temaryn. He wielded a flaming sword in one hand and a whip in the other.

“Do you see?” Velixar asked. “He rules in the Abyss, purifying the wretched given to our lord. I will not judge you for sending him to Karak, for his soul is secure, and he is in his place. You, however…”

Darius could not look away from the horrific image. This was the future awaiting his Order? Temaryn looked pleased enough, and he lashed the sinners with his whip while crying out for repentance and obedience. The vision changed, and he saw a hundred things that he could not remember the moment after they passed, only feel the lingering terror and anguish. Through it all, the dead marched, sang, and burned with clockwork precision. True to his god, the Abyss was a place of order above all things.