There was a time when the Luminaries believed that the zealots were simply another faction of the many faiths which they saw as all essentially madness from a bygone age of man – without real distinction. Perhaps they believe it still, but they were not above using their beliefs against them.

I had no time to mourn Sephina. Though not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, huddled in the black dust of that distant planet. Her pleading gaze haunts me.

The HVT we took from the planet would not speak. He bit through his own tongue to keep himself from being able to. He does not know the lengths to which the Luminaries will go. I was brought into the interrogation by a corpulent man in bulging blue robes, a novitiate of the Luminaries. He wore thin-rimmed glasses which he pushed up on his face every few questions.

The HVT’s face was deeply lined and gaunt like a ghost’s, showing his thinness even through a thick black beard. His skin was a coppery tone, though dusted white with age. In his dead coal eyes was a sternness that in many ways reminded me of my father though without the warmth. I shook my head against that thought and grit my teeth against the pain it brought.

I sat next to the large luminary man at a clear crystal table across from the interviewee. The sterile white brightness of the room cast no shadows as it emanated from almost every portion.

“ECHO 11723254,” the luminary’s voice was a high-pitched whine that cracked with false kindness, “Anaris Meffin, born fifty-eight years ago OET, in the deserts of Mars in a small colony outside of the Crimson Sanctum. Mother, Noor Meffin, father, Altruis Meffin. Shall I list the names of your eight siblings and their current wehereabouts?”

The man across the table grinned a gap-toothed smile and opened his mouth to reveal his lack of tongue.

“Ah yes,” the luminary screeched, “I’ve a little experiment here.” He waved his hand and a portion of wall unsealed revealing a hidden doorway. A soldier in full suit including faceshield stepped out and stood behind the man.

“You see, I have brought one of the deathslayers.”

The man’s eyes grew wide, but he controlled himself, stealing only a quick glance in my direction.

The luminary laughed and leaned back, “You understand then. Such a funny thing this death business. You long for it as a release to your god,” the man said the word with clear disdain, chopping it off with his teeth, “and yet the Luminaries have defeated it. Now, it is not threat of death, but threat of life which terrifies you – keeps you from your eternal glories.”

I recall his mocking tone. I grit my teeth against it. I thought to speak, but I held my peace.

The prisoner feigned a yawn, which might have been convincing if not for the darting of his eyes again to me. The luminary stood gracefully despite his belly and strode around the table. It was only a pace or so across. He stood beside the prisoner, who was not bound and leaned close to speak into his ear, but he was looking at me.

“We have learned some about the aberrant’s powers. Would you like to see?”

The luminary had hazel eyes, dancing with wicked delight. I had a sense of what was coming and glanced at the prisoner whose eyes were full of terror. The luminary raised his hand, two fingers up in sign to the soldier who drew his sidearm and placed it to the back of the man’s skull.

There was a pause as the prisoner began to moan as if trying to speak but could not without his tongue. The luminary laughed, I cursed, and he brought his hand down.

The blast tore through the prisoner’s head and sent spray onto the ceiling and toward me, but the power flared and burned it all away. My hand shot forward across the table of its own accord as I was wreathed in vibrant display and both the luminary and the soldier jumped back.

I wanted to let him die. I hated him. I hated the luminaries for this display, I was full of nothing but rage, but the power bloomed and amber waves of healing power evaporated all the gore into an almost instant display of health.

The prisoner sat stark upright and began to scream, his tongue babbling words in a tongue I did not know. He then hung his head low and continued his conversation with himself, eyes fixed on the table.

The flames faded around us, and I breathed easier even as I bit my own lip and clenched my fists until my nails dug into my skin. My heart pumped violently.

Laughter filled the room as the luminary slapped the prisoner on the back and spoke, “Ah, you have been flame-touched. Your own people will kill you now, and only darkness awaits. What a cost to believe.” He laughed again and waved away the soldier who left by the same door which slid shut and sealed cleanly behind him.

The luminary looked at me, his mirth hiding cold-calculating disgust and said, “You may go, deathslayer.”

Another door slid open from bottom to top leading into a nearby corridor, and I stood. I stepped by the table and the prisoner’s hand shot out, grasping my wrist with an iron grip that soon melted into barely holding on.

“Mercy,” was the word he whispered as I ripped my hand away from him breathed out hard and left without looking back.

Sephina’s face followed me through the dim-lit corridor toward my berthing on the legionary ship. I breathed through my nose, and I choked back my tears with each angry step.