Prologue
WITHIN THE CHURCH stood about a dozen young children and several adults with hoods pulled low over their faces. Clad in black clothing with crests embroidered on them, the children wore anxious expressions. Their numbers had been dwindling—one by one they had been escorted to a separate room. The boy suspected that he would be next. The dragon girl he had been raised in the same chamber with had been taken away mere moments before.
Finally, after the longest wait so far, the boy was called by a robed man.
“Come.”
Despite the oppressive air about the man, one which evoked a sense of fear, the boy stepped forward. They left the main church hall and continued down a long hallway. The boy had spent his days in one room without laying eyes on much else, so the sights outside captivated him.
“Keep up. Don’t tarry.”
The boy’s curiosity was quashed by the man’s quietly spoken orders. It was only then that he realized how far he had fallen behind. He nodded, forced his short legs into a dash and, once he caught up, endeavored to keep pace. The man did not slow down for him. Their trek through the corridor ended in descending a set of stairs leading underground, only illuminated by candles.
The man did not enter the first door, which was battered and crumbling, but the one next to it instead. The boy followed. Inside were several other robed adults; only one of them had their face uncovered. The boy realized that he had seen that face several times before. The adults called him the Priest. The boy’s guide moved to one side of the room and leaned back against the wall in silence. Before the boy could ask any questions, another man descended upon him. Alarm bells began to ring in his head.
“Stop!” he cried, but the man held on to his arms regardless. The Priest stepped forward. This didn’t seem right. “Stop!”
“Bring him before the altar,” the Priest said.
The man obeyed, dragging the boy farther into the room.
“Don’t! Stop!”
The priest grabbed the boy’s jaw. “Open your mouth.”
“Mmph!”
The Priest forced a liquid past the boy’s lips. The substance was ice cold and tasted uncomfortably artificial as it slid down his throat. It was like drinking iron or a substance that shouldn’t be consumed. The boy forced himself to cough the liquid up, splattering the spit-laced concoction all over the face of the Priest before him.
“Why, you!” The Priest scowled as he wiped the liquid away and struck the boy with full force.
With the other man holding him in place, there was no bracing against the blow. The boy’s vision flickered. Pain pushed him to the brink of tears, but it was too late to prevent his body’s transformation. He groaned, the liquid he had failed to spit out beginning to take effect. A haze fell over his mind. Words stopped forming in his head.
“Quickly, Father,” urged the man leaning against the wall.
“I know.” The Priest turned to grab the warped knife on the altar. He unsheathed it, revealing a beautiful white blade. Holding it tightly, he began to recite a prayer. “Do not doubt He who cannot be seen.”
“Do not doubt He who cannot be seen.”
“Do not doubt He who cannot be seen.”
The other men in the room chanted with him.
“Do...” the boy groaned.
His mind was fuzzy, the words sinking in easily.
“Do not rebel against He who is all merciful.”
“Do not rebel against He who is all merciful.”
“Do not rebel against He who is all merciful.”
“Do...not...”
The man restraining him rolled up the sleeve on the boy’s right arm and offered the limb to the Priest.
“Do not want from He who is most exalted.”
“Do not want from He who is most exalted.”
“Do not want from He who is most exalted.”
“...most...ex...”
The Priest’s lip curled ever so slightly, his spirits lifted. However, the pitiful sight of the boy did not evoke a shred of emotion from him.
“As He blesses us, so too does He deprive.”
The Priest himself recited the remaining words.
“Here, in this moment, life is bestowed upon you. You are hereby given your true name.” He raised the knife, then spoke once more.
A name was engraved into the boy, something he had never possessed before. With that, his mind yielded to darkness.
Prologue: The Baptism