Marilyn jumped at the first note Flin played and turned to look at him, tucking something away into her pocket. She sighed in relief as the song went on and tugged at the reins with enough force to make the Venbu stir. Within a matter of moments, the entire Caravan sprung to life and Centaurus was back on track. As soon as they started moving, several more Maw Hounds began to follow through the hills, almost totally concealed behind rocky ridges and dirt mounds.

	"That's a nice song," Marilyn said quietly. Ever since they got back onto the Caravan, she'd been even quieter than usual. It wasn't just the fact that she'd said almost nothing. Even they way she moved revealed how nervous she'd been. Little foot steps, tense eyebrows, and an effort to avoid coming into contact with anything as she moved through the Caravan. It seemed like she would break if anything even bumped her slightly.

	Noru took Neale's body and gently placed it on one of the empty bottom bunks. "You can release this now," Noru assured Pyra, pointing to his compress. "Ilruvae." By now, the healing tincture that Neale has meshed into the man's bloodstream had caused his wound to scab over. Zay sighed and leaned forwards into the table, burying his head into both arms.

	"How's it looking?" Zay asked, his voice muffled.

	"How's it - Um. He'll pull through. But his wound is unlike anything I've seen before." Noru felt along Neale's shoulder carefully, sorting out the shards of bone as he waited for the man to reach a more stable condition. "This couldn't have been a small monster. The fractures and sheer damage to his tissue indicate a catastrophic amount of raw force being applied. It was a single strike, and it was precise enough that the rest of his body was completely unharmed. Aside from severe exhaustion, this man is otherwise, perfectly fine." Zay rose his head. "I think something sentient was responsible. They must have been very dangerous too, because..." Noru paused and moved his hand to Neale's insignia. "...I know this knight."

[center][h1][color=ed1c24]* * *[/color][/h1]
[i]Around that same time...[/i]
Berganfont Outskirts, The Great Tear[/center]

	Just a Kilometer way from the edge of Berganfont's upper district, the High Houses, rested a place the held the majority of Shaidra's most devout followers. The [b]Black Cathedral[/b], a massive church the took up nearly 10% of the High district, and bled out into the wilds like a giant balcony, overlooking [b]The Great Tear[/b] from high above the wretched canyon. It was like a bowl of black stone, hanging high above with giant pillars of obsidian supporting its girth from below. At the base of those pillars, beasts of different origins nested peacefully using the shade from the Cathedral as a respite from the harsh sun of summer.

	From the massive balcony above the monstrous nesting area, several Bishops gazed down into the pit of darkness below. The Great Tear dug deeper into the earth than any other Canyon known to man. Across all of Thoris, the studious know of its sheer size, and the dangers within. Even in the light of day, the bottom lays far out of sight. To fall means death, and to explore is a fruitless effort. Many have gone to what some would consider the shallowest sections of the tear, spelunking for materials and information, only to return with loss and memories drenched in horror. The Bishops saw it as a holy place, though. Berganfont's history rests on the 'holiness' of the void below. Why else would the Nation exist so closely to one of the most dangerous places in the entire world?

	"This noon speaks volumes," [b]Father Morpheus[/b] heaved through a heavy surplus of phlegm. Three other Bishops leaned over the balcony by his side. They were all draped in the same pitch-black linens, emblazoned with two white insignia on either shoulder, several silver linings that wrapped both shoulders, and  two more lines that reached all the way down to their feet from either armpit. One of the men standing there was slightly shorter than the rest, but the linings of his cloak glinted a different hue. [i]Gold.[/i]

	"The people have been quiet. It's only natural for Shaidra to speak to us now," Arch Bishop Ramon assured his elder. Morpheus managed a weak smile and coughed into the sleeve of his robe. "Her sickness will take you soon, old friend."

	"I am ready to go. Far be it from me to fight what she has chosen for this old fool." Morpheus hacked up a glob of black mucus and let it fall to the stone at his feet. Part of him was taken aback, even though he'd seen the same thing many a time before. "I am grateful that my life has lasted this long." He turned to Ramon. "I assume you've been scouting for my replacement?"

	"Let's not talk of what comes after, Morpheus," Ramon said quietly, patting his friend's shoulder, "We have matters to tend to. While you still draw breath, I hope to see you involved in that which gives you purpose. For now, your life still has meaning, and we will treat you with respect until you are gone from this realm." Morpheus nodded and smiled even wider.

	"Righteous words, my friend." The sickly man looked at his fellow Bishops who all smiled back at him softly. "Then I shall continue, and follow through with my responsibilities. Hail to the void." The man moved his hands towards the center of his chest, crossing his wrists over one another and bending his fingers as they shook uncontrollably. A salute, or a prayer, to their ever present anti god. The other Bishops responded with the same sign. Their hands did not shake. Morpheus bowed and spun around to the center of the balcony, where a man rested on his knees with his hands bound behind his back, his eyes sewn shut, and his mouth gagged with a jagged stone. Blood poured from every orifice in his face, streaming down his neck in tepid streams that grew colder as they reached his bare chest. The only clothing he wore was a sheet of leather over his waist. His entire body had been shaven, and his back was covered in scars. Morpheus approached him with a soft smile and rose one hand towards his forehead.

	[i]"I free you from this cursed existence,"[/i] Morpheus started, raising his voice higher with each word. The man before him leaned forward and sobbed, as if to beg for his life. [i]"For the cursed study of magic, that which seeks to end this wretched world, and your facade against this organization. Be free."[/i] A spark of black light erupted from the Bishop's hand and connected it with his victim's forehead. The tortured man lurched backwards and his entire body began to convulse. Moans of agony ruptured through the stone that pierced his tongue and blood welled even quicker from his ears. 

	[i]"Be Free!"[/i]

	It only took a few moments. The light disappeared, and its target fell forward, lifeless. Blood began to pool around his head, but was soaked into the black stone beneath him, [i]almost like it was magic.[/i] Morpheus let out a sigh of exhaustion and turned to his fellow Bishops with a smile. "It is done once more."

	"Excellent," Ramon congratulated, "No matter the age, your [b]Purge[/b] is unmatched, Father Morpheus. [b]Jaime, Edna,[/b] the body..." On his command, two of the other Bishops ran over and picked up the corpse at Morpheus' feet. Ramon approached him as the two hurried past him with the body in hand, towards the edge of the balcony. "I will miss you when you are gone, Morpheus..."

	The two Bishops heaved twice, and then chucked the mostly-naked corpse into the abyss below. As it plummeted into the great tear, they watched with a sinister smile plastered across their faces.

	"...I hope you know that."