To everything there is a season, and to every man his fate —Talos
Korvus. If Cassian had a list for all the people they'd killed in his name, it would be longer than any scripture. More people had died on this wooden platform than he knew in his six years at the temple orphanage.
A woman knelt on the platform, hands bound by chains latched to the wood beneath her.
The Archon brought his face inches from the woman and spat.
The crowd roared—Hail Korvus, Hail the lord. The Archon waited for three seconds before raising his right palm, then the crowd fell silent.
"We are gathered here today to pass judgement on one of our own"
Cassian stood among the crowd, watching as their numbers increased, gradually filling the town square. Their hot, sweaty, skins pressing against his. Some were jeering, others hooting. None opposed to what was about to happen
"This is a criminal. She was caught stealing and as commanded by our lord Korvus, she must die"
"It pains me to do this, truly" His lips twitched, for a second he looked sad "But as Archon, it is my duty"
He paced around the wooden platform, his tunic flowing like a trail of white behind him.
"We cannot let criminals like this get away with cheating law-abiding citizens like me. Like you"
Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.
Cassian stared at the woman. Her face was pale, the Archon's mucus glistening on her cheek. Her brown eyes were dull, same colour as the mud that now stained her blue gown. She would've been pretty. What drove her to steal? Hunger? Or maybe she was suicidal. Not that it mattered now.
There was a look to her face. The same anguished look his mother had when he last saw her; She knew she was going to die.
The Archon approached the headsman, steps measured and practiced. He murmured something to him that made his jaw tighten. Then he turned to face the crowd.
"Let us be done with this" He waved his hand, intentionally dramatic. The headsman walked towards the woman, his bulky figure sending waves through the platform. He held his axe low, almost touching the ground. He was slow, calm, but Cassian knew from the look in his eyes that he enjoyed this— teasing already dead people before finally killing them anew.
The crowd chanted softly, goading him. He flashed a sadistic smile at the woman before raising his axe. He let it hover above her neck. Far enough that it wouldn't cut her, but close enough that she could feel the air around it chill.
"In the name of the lord korvus" he whispered loud enough for people to hear.
Cassian looked at the woman. He felt all the emotions she didn't show; all the rage, the sadness.
And the fear.
Yesterday, she would've worshiped Korvus as fervently as the crowd now hated her .
What if it was him? Would he be judged the same as her?
He could never be as calm as her.
He had things to do. And he had to be alive for that. The headsman' s axe rose and hung there a still, merciless moment.
The crowd hushed, anticipating the fall. The woman locked eyes with Cassian.
He wanted to look away, but he would not. He held her eyes like he was holding her hand, hoping it offered some form of comfort.
The axe was fast. There was a sound— then red .
The crowd dispersed. People mumbling, laughing.
He stood there, staring. As if were he to will it enough, he could ressurect her. But even saints stayed down when their heads were chopped off.
Cassian made his way back to the temple, his mind drifting back to the woman. He felt scared for her—she'd sinned, and died a sinner. Her end was certain.
And then he felt scared for himself.
Because there was a tiny voice in his head whispering that she shouldn't have died.
The walk back to his dorm was quiet. He couldn't control his mind, stop his thoughts from trailing back to that woman. How limp she looked.
When she was dying.
How cold the air felt when she was dead.
He'd seen people die. People he cared about, but this was different.
He saw the other students make their way back. Orphans just like him. Loyal to the temple, loyal to korvus.
He opened his door. The book on the ground almost tripped him.
He'd almost forgotten about the awakening ceremony—almost.
His entire life, up until this point was all for the next few days.
One single test to determine if he would gain power.
He knew he would be blessed. He was loyal, religious, and he prayed to korvus every chance he got. And korvus rewarded his most righteous followers with what they most desired. So said the scriptures.
His body still quivered whenever he thought about it.
He was human after all.
He picked up his pocket watch.
A Black thing with a silver sword engraved on the back. The only memento of his dead parents.
His mother shoved it in his pockets before she pushed him down the river.
He never understood why. Then again he didn't remember much from that night.
The night that turned his world collapsed.
He picked up the book. It was open. The forgotten scriptures.
Scarps of notes that were too vague to be scriptures, but still too strong to be dismissed. Outcasts, like him.
He'd heard that they never asked this chapter in the written aspect.
He read it anyway.
He closed the book before slipping into his bed.
Beside his wooden wardrobe, the only thing aside the table he had in the room.
He had to pass the written exams, a test to see how well he knew korvus. Silly, but important.
Naturally, he was prepared. He'd been preparing everyday since he got here.
His eyes grew heavier, finally shutting.
Today was eventful, hopefully no one dies tomorrow.
The light of the morning sun filtered in through the curtains. Red. He yawned as he stretched, knocking down one of the books on his bed.
Just a few days more Cassian, Just a few days more. He walked to the window, directly across his bed, the wooden floorboards crying with every step. He pulled the curtains squinting as his eyes adapted to the light. The sun must've come up early today. He rummaged for his pocket watch in the wardrobe opposite the table. He looked at the hands. Read the time and his pupils dilated. Impossible. His hands trembled, almost dropping the watch. Thirty minutes to seven. A whole hour late. When did the gong ring?
Had he missed it?. He ran out of his room and looked around. There was no one. The passageway was deserted. Silent. By korvus. He darted back into his room. He flung the wardrobe open, and picked out one of the many roughly folded white tunics, he put it on, fast
He looked at his watch again. A minute had gone by. He made to put the watch in his pocket, but he couldn't find it: his tunic was on backwards. By Korvus and all his holy wars.
He sprinted out the room, his tunic half covering his eyes as he pulled it off. He sped through the passageway. Past the closed doors. Down the stairs. Turned left at the statue of the Archon, before the silhouette of the temple finally appeared, sounds of unintelligible rambling following close. A cacophony of voices, all praising korvus. As he got closer the sound became clearer. Hymn forty. One before the last. He quickened his pace, stopping at a door. It was opened, slightly ajar. Thank Korvus.
He looked— they had their eyes closed— and snuck in, quiet as the wind. He sat beside an unsuspecting Apprentice and started reciting. Natural. No one saw him. Safe.