Vivyka stalked toward them, her eyes hard with determination. A middle-aged man with short gray hair walked next to her. He wore a long, deep blue robe that billowed out behind him as he strode purposefully forward. “Hello,” the man greeted them, pleasant and businesslike. “I am Reuben, a cleric in the service of Chira, goddess of justice.”

“Why are you here?” Matt asked, voice low, though he knew––or rather feared––the answer. He held Sera closer, possessively, but he already had the sick feeling that there was nothing he could do.

“To deliver justice,” Reuben said simply. “This woman”—he motioned to Vivyka—“has made a charge against you. I found her to be speaking the truth, and her suggested punishment has been accepted.”

“You’re an intruder, and you’re not welcome here,” Sera told him.

“I have obtained permission from your high priestess,” he replied, “without which I would be unable to be here, as you should know. I am sorry to tell you that you have your own consequences to deal with. But I would guess that comes as no surprise.”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about Matt, and he isn’t the person he used to be,” she said in his defense. “He’s changed.”

Reuben nodded once, acknowledging her opinion. “Vivyka has merely expressed a desire that you be acquainted with some of his past, to see some of his memories. It is her wish to save you from an experience similar to her own,” he explained.

Matt felt icy dread flow through him, and his stomach knotted. “Don’t do this to her. I’ll stay away from her, I swear.”

But the cleric ignored him and continued speaking to Sera. “I do hope this is not too unpleasant for you. The spell will bring back emotions as well as images, and I understand, as a cleric of healing, you have the gift of empathy. But I believe Vivyka’s intentions to be good and her request to be just.”

Sera looked at Vivyka. “This won’t help anything. It won’t make what’s already been done go away. It won’t change what he is to me.”

“Viv, you don’t understand how bad my past is,” Matt said. “It’ll hurt her. Stop this and I swear I will never go near her again.”

“She won’t listen––she won’t stay away from you. But I won’t let you hurt her,” Vivyka told him fiercely. “It’s far better to feel a little pain from a few memories now than to live through it like I did, to still hurt from it years later.”

“Viv, I’m sorry, really, I am sorry for hurting you. But please don’t do this,” Matt begged. “It’s worse than you know.”

Reuben looked curiously at Vivyka, who gave him a nod, consenting to continue. “There will be no more talking now,” he told everyone. “I am casting a silencing spell until this is finished. Please form a circle. Sera, move over this way.” He motioned with a hand.

Sera looked up at Matt and met his gaze. Her blue eyes were warm, adoring, and filled with love, and he knew that was about to change forever. He tried to tell her everything with his eyes, with his emotions: how sorry he was, how deeply he shared her current feelings. He caressed her cheek tenderly and kissed her before they reluctantly obeyed the cleric. They held hands until they were too far apart and had to let go. He held her gaze as long as he could, cherishing the look in her eyes.

Reuben cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him before turning to speak to Matt. “This is fairly straightforward. We are just going to look at some of your memories from various stages of your life, starting from your childhood and moving forward. It will only take a few minutes.” He glanced at them each in turn, and then nodded once. “Let us begin.”

In the center of the circle they had formed, a pool of water appeared, seeping up from the ground and spreading out until it almost touched their toes. It shimmered like liquid silver, and the sky darkened overhead. The dream world around them seemed to fade into nothingness as the pool grew brighter and then swirled before slowing to a stop. A memory appeared across the surface of the water, as clearly as if they were watching people through an open window. Even the sound was clear; it seemed the silencing spell was only for them.

The memories began at Malluk’s True Temple when Matt was almost five years old. It was the day Sera and Tess’ parents had met his…

Kieran sauntered into her son’s room to find him still sleeping on his large four-poster bed. “Get up,” she told him, throwing open the deep red curtains and letting the mid-morning sun pour in through the large window.

Mathias turned his head away from the bright light and rubbed his eyes as he sat up.

Kieran sat next to him. “How can you sleep in on a day like this?”

He didn’t remember what was so special about today, so he stayed silent.

“Today I’m becoming a goddess,” she told him. “Or did you forget?”

He shook his head.

“Well, what kind of goddess do you think your mother will be?” she wondered.

“A perfect one.”

She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled. “Good answer.”

He grinned. “That’s why I said it.”

She chuckled throatily as she stood. “Come on, we’ll have some fun before it’s time.”

He scooted off the bed. Already wearing some black pants, he followed her barefoot; the temple was too hot for shoes or a shirt. That was why his mother wore very skimpy black outfits, or so he assumed. Just before they reached the door, he grabbed his belt off a side table and put it on so he had his dagger. It had been a birthday present from his mother, and he never went anywhere without it.

“Are we going to torture someone?” he asked.

“You are not doing anything,” she told him, as she had on every occasion before. “You still have a lot to learn. But you can watch.”

He sighed. “I know stuff,” he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I could do it.”

She smiled at his eagerness. “Maybe next time. This time you’ll stay out of sight and just watch.”

“I don’t wanna hide,” he complained. “I’m brave. I don’t hide from anything.”

“I know, but there are several people here today,” she explained as they continued down a long stone corridor. “The ones who were trying to stop me.”

He scoffed.

“Exactly. But it’s best to be safe,” she told him. “You’re too valuable to risk. I wasn’t even going to let you be in the room today, but then I couldn’t let you miss such a historic event.”

They entered the altar room, and Kieran took Matt to the large throne where Xavien was already sitting. Mathias had his father’s blond hair and blue eyes, but otherwise, thankfully, he looked like his mother. He wished he could have her black hair and eyes as well, but that wasn’t her natural coloring––it was because of a ritual performed just after she was born that had taken every ounce of good from her. It had left her with no heart, making her pure evil and turning her brown hair and eyes black.

“You stay behind there and make sure no one sees or hears you,” Kieran told him.

“Okay,” Mathias agreed grudgingly.

“And you.” She turned to Xavien; her tone was instantly edgy when she spoke to him. “Stay close to him, and if anything should even look like it might go wrong, get him to safety.”

“Yes, high priestess,” he replied obediently.

Mathias made a disgusted face at him.

Kieran laughed. “Time for fun,” she told Mathias, her voice pleasant again.

“I’ll watch and learn for next time,” Mathias told her.

She smiled and reached over to pet his hair. “Good,” she said, then turned to the guards. “Bring our guests.”

Mathias sat down on the warm marble floor as the people were escorted into the room, their hands tied in front of them. After his mother talked to them for a while, she approached the half-elf, Cael'Kashlan. "At least your human blood makes you attractive. You aren't vile, like the rest of those elves," she told him.

She enjoyed the ones that were beautiful as well as tough, and whenever she got that smoldering look in her dark eyes, she would keep that person around for a while, usually chained up in her bedroom.

A short while later, Kieran had the half-elf brought to the altar. He went willingly, looking proud and regal, and this delighted his mother, because it meant he would take longer to break. Mathias watched as she tortured the man, she laughed cruelly at his pain, but the man was strong and didn't cry out.

But it wasn't long before the laughter stopped. A little gnome and a giant orc somehow made it into the temple and came to the aid of the prisoners.

A fight ensued, with Kieran engaged by Julia and Lotus. Mathias moved out from behind the throne just as his father started for him. Mathias shot him a contemptuous glare before pulling his dagger out and heading toward his mother, ready to defend her. But Xavien grabbed him, knocked the dagger out of his hand, and carried him out. Mathias struggled, but Xavien finally succeeded in taking his son from the room and hiding with him in a lower part of the temple.

It was some time later that a guard who had managed to survive the attack found them. “I’m sorry,” he told Mathias, and then explained that his mother had been killed.

Mathias turned a murderous glare on his father. “It’s your fault!” he yelled furiously. “You stopped me from helping. You ran away. You’re a stupid coward!”

Xavien laughed harshly. “And what would you have done?” he asked snidely. “You were nothing more than her little pet, more useless than a dog, and even worse now that you don’t have your mommy to hide behind.”

“I wasn’t her pet! I was everything to her,” Mathias seethed. “But you were nothing, you’re always nothing! She said you were a dumb puppet!”

“Well, guess what?” Xavien smiled nastily. “You’re not her precious little heir anymore. And now she isn’t here to save you from getting what you deserve,” he said, heading for his son.

Mathias just watched him, his eyes filled with hatred, but the guard stopped Xavien before he could get to him.

“Get off me!” Xavien demanded.

“It’s still the job of the temple guard to protect Mathias,” the man informed him. “Kieran’s instructions, in the event that something were to happen to her, were that you care for the heir until he is old enough to join the temple, but that we protect him. I’ll take that to mean even from you.”

Mathias walked over, kicked Xavien’s shin as hard as he could, and then left the room as his father cursed loudly after him. He went straight to the altar room and looked around at the dead bodies of guards and hellhounds—luckily none of the giant dogs was his pet, Pyra. He found his dagger and put it back in the sheath on his belt before going to the ledge overlooking the pit that ran across the back of the room. He down, into the lava. His mother was down there––those people had killed her. He would make them pay someday. But worse than them was his father, who had just let it happen. His eyes stung with the threat of tears, but he didn’t cry. He wouldn’t, because he was strong, like his mother.

At that moment, he made a promise to himself, and to her, that he would never let anyone hold him back again, that he would never be helpless.

Little did he know that he would be rendered helpless plenty of times in the coming years, constantly abused by a jealous father every time he lost his temper and they were away from the eyes of Malluk’s people. And nothing Mathias could tell them did any good; his words were just the accusations of a hateful child with no proof to back them up. It was difficult to bruise him, and Xavien was always careful to hit in places that wouldn’t leave marks.

A new scene began to play out; it was a couple of years later, when he was seven. His father was in another rage and chasing after him. He had been drinking again.

“Mathias!” Xavien bellowed as he walked into the animal feed store. He hated this place because they had live insects in stock, and he was terrified of them, but he was drunk enough to follow his son in this time. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“Haven’t seen him,” the storekeeper told him.

Mathias stood behind a shelf in the back, where it was safest, right next to the large glass jar full of crickets. Only the temple was safer––Xavien didn’t dare touch him there––but he had been too far away, and his father had been catching up with him, so he had decided to come in here instead.

“Where the hell are you, you worthless brat?” Xavien roared, then added grandly, “Where is this great son of Kieran? The scared little coward who hides away?”

Mathias growled, and came out into the open to face his father. “Shut up!” he yelled. “I just don’t wanna see your disgusting face!” He took the nearby jar and threw it. It shattered on the ground in front of Xavien and crickets went everywhere, jumping around in all directions. Xavien squealed, and Mathias laughed at him, running past him and out of the store. He didn’t stop running until he was inside the temple. It was only a temporary escape, though. He knew he would get beaten later; he had to go home eventually.

The next memory was exactly that, though it was about a year later…

His father was yelling at him about something, but Mathias wasn’t really listening. He barely heard Xavien telling him to get up after the last blow. He didn’t care what his father said; he only cared about getting this beating over with.

He got to his feet, only to be hit and knocked down again––but this time, while he was down, Xavien kicked him in the stomach before he could get back up. The force threw him back and onto his side. It took Mathias a moment to catch his breath, but then he stood back up and made sure to meet his father’s gaze and show no emotion. Mathias rarely fought back anymore––it did him no good, and more importantly, he found that this got to Xavien much more than anything else.

Furious, his father hit him with the back of his fist. Though it stung and the side of his face felt like it was on fire, Mathias whipped his head back and laughed at Xavien’s mistake. He never hit his son in the face, too fearful that it would swell and bruise and Mathias would have proof to show the temple.

But Xavien was one step ahead of him. “Daliah!” he called.

A mousy woman walked into the room. “Yes?” she asked, avoiding any eye contact. Mathias guessed she was his father’s latest girlfriend.

“Make sure he doesn’t bruise or anything,” Xavien told her, then smirked at his son. “Got us a healer.”

But Mathias was strong––maybe not enough to beat down his father like he wanted to, but more than enough to get her away from him. As soon as the woman got close enough, he grabbed a fistful of her frizzy brown hair and threw her into the kitchen table. She slammed into some chairs and fell with them to the floor while Mathias ran out of the house.

He stayed at the temple that night and, happily, woke up the next morning with a black eye. Mathias knew he would get a severe beating later, but it was well worth watching the temple punish his father.

Next, the pool showed a few memories of him bullying other kids, and then it moved on to a day that was one of the happiest of his life…

He was in a tavern, standing off in the corner while four men ganged up on his father. Mathias would never be hit by him again. He was almost twelve now, and old enough to enter into temple service—a little early, but the temple made an exception—which meant that Xavien was no longer necessary or wanted.

Xavien hit the wooden floor hard after a particularly brutal blow. As he struggled to his knees, he met his son’s gaze. Was he asking for help? Mathias wondered, and laughed at him. Xavien glared as he spat out blood.

No one in the tavern offered any help. It was Malluk’s people who were beating him, and people tended not to interfere with them, especially not in this town. Port Vallyn was the city closest to Malluk’s True Temple, and many of his followers lived there; besides, Xavien wasn’t exactly a well-liked man. So although people watched, they would pretend later that they barely saw anything, reporting it as a tavern brawl and conveniently not knowing the names of anyone involved.

A burly man grabbed the back of Xavien’s shirt and pulled him to his feet. Another punched him in the stomach, making him double over. Then a third man, Julian, one of Malluk’s priests, grabbed Xavien by the throat when he stood straight again. Julian chanted something under his breath, and his hand began to glow a deep red. Xavien screamed. When Julian stopped, he had the men hold Xavien in place, then looked at Mathias and raised a questioning brow.

Eager to be the one to do this and thrilled that they were offering, Mathias didn’t hesitate to pull his dagger out and walk over. It wasn’t the blade his mother had given him––it was a temple dagger, since Xavien had destroyed the other years before––but it would do the job just as well. Mathias stopped in front of Xavien and smiled happily. Then, keeping his gaze locked with his father’s, he slit the bastard’s throat.

The men let go, and Xavien dropped limply to the floor. Mathias stood over his father’s body for a minute and reveled in the elation he felt, the joy of finally being rid of him. It was also his first kill, and the experience made him feel euphoric and powerful. He wiped the blade with his fingers, wanting to touch the blood, to have it on him. He made a fist, smearing it, then opened it again and stared at his crimson hand.

“What’s in your head?” Julian wondered.

“Just wishing I could do it again,” Mathias answered with a grin.

Julian chuckled approvingly. “Not Xavien, unfortunately, but others will come,” he assured him.

Just then, Mathias noticed something lying beside his father. He sheathed his dagger and bent down to pick up the silver cigarette case that had fallen out of Xavien's pocket. Mathias wiped his bloody hand off on Xavien’s shirt and then turned the case over to see a hellhound engraved on it.

“That was your mother’s,” Julian told him. “As if that worm deserved to even touch something of Kieran’s.”

Mathias caressed the design with a thumb. “I remember.” He stood straight again. “Well, it’s mine now.”

“As she would have wanted,” the priest agreed.

Mathias looked down at his father 's corpse for a moment, then spat on it and turned his back, never wanting to see it again. He took out a cigarette and smiled. “Anyone got a light?”

The next few memories were of him fighting, and then of him doing minor tasks for the temple––mostly he was just told to watch and learn, especially when they would torture people. It also showed some of the torture he endured himself—training that was required of Malluk’s chosen, making them strong. At thirteen, they let him make his first sacrifice. He wasn’t supposed to make one for another year, but he had kept asking and had finally gotten his way.

When he was fourteen, he found something that he liked as much as violence: sex. He had only seen it before––some of the taverns in town were basically an open show. They weren’t places that allowed anyone underage, but he was the heir. He could go where he liked and do as he pleased, for the most part, though he still had to answer to temple law and try to keep a low profile with the city guard when he was off temple grounds.

A pretty shop girl who was about his age caught his eye one day, and he decided he wanted her. He waited until the store was closing and they were the only two left inside.

“Sorry, but we’re closed now,” she said.

He locked the front door and closed the curtains in the window. “I’m not a very satisfied customer,” he told her as he turned and walked closer.

She twirled a finger nervously around a lock of her long red hair. “Well… what do you want?”

“You,” he answered simply, and he was kissing her seconds later. She was surprised, but didn’t shove him away until he started unbuttoning her shirt. He had always been big and naturally strong, and she was just a sweet, slender girl. Her struggles were nothing to him. It wasn’t long before he had her mostly naked and pinned beneath him, with a hand over her mouth to muffle her yells.

A short while later, as she lay crying on the hard floor, he had left the shop with a smile on his face and a new appetite to feed. And he had done just that. Since that first time, he hadn’t gone more than a few nights without sex until recently. He stuck with willing hussies most of the time, but every once in a while someone would catch his interest and he would either play with them until they caved or just take what he wanted by force. It depended on his mood, whether he had time to spare, and if there were any bets involved.

When he was sixteen, he was finally allowed to start doing mercenary jobs for the temple. He liked doing the dirty work more than studying to become a cleric and eventually a priest, as he had been meant to. He promised that he would do it later––he just wanted to have some fun before he was tied down at the temple. So he ran errands, stole items, retrieved people, tortured, and occasionally murdered. He never knew the reasons for doing these things, and he never asked––he just did them in service to Malluk, and for the fun of it.

The last job he did in Port Vallyn was a murder, and the first time he had ever brought anyone else with him—Bo and Jake. They killed the man and his brother quickly. Afterwards, the others shared the man’s wife, but Mathias didn't like sharing, so he had just left, not caring about what they did to her…

To Matt, it was like watching someone else’s memories. It made him realize how he had changed, and yet, it showed him just how much of a monster he really was. Worse, the memories had only gotten up to age sixteen; there was still seven years left.

As he watched, he could remember how he had felt and what he had thought at the time. He could remember and even understand his reasoning, but it didn’t connect now. It had never felt wrong at the time, though; every guy he fought was asking for it, and every woman wanted it, whether she thought so or not. To him, everything existed for his amusement, to use as he saw fit.

The contrast between who he had been only a few months ago and who he was now was strange. He still felt all of the same emotions, but now they were tempered with guilt and what he guessed was a bit of compassion. His anger was more manageable, his passions calmer, his mind clearer and quieter. It was like he had been drunk his whole life and now he was sober and more in control. He wasn’t sure how much of that was because of losing the dark god’s mark and how much was Sera.

He finally looked at her and instantly regretted it. In his life, he had been stabbed and shot with arrows, and his body had been battered and broken. But all of that combined didn’t add up to the pain he felt when he saw the tortured look in her eyes and the tears streaming down her face. And he was the cause. She was the one person that he had never wanted to hurt, and she was suffering now because of him.

And there was more to come. He felt like he was dying as his life literally passed before his eyes. It was a slow, painful death. He deserved to be punished, but Sera didn’t. She was an angel, and he had brought her to hell. He wanted to go to her, to hold her and kiss her and tell her that the monster in the pool wasn’t him. But it was: he was a monster who had actually thought for a moment that she could love him, that he could even deserve to be touched by her.

He should have stayed away––he should have kept her out of his dreams. But he was weak and selfish. She was his sun, his light, and he needed her. He couldn’t stand being alone in the darkness anymore, but he had just ended up pulling her into the dark with him.

He turned away from her and looked back at the pool. It was now showing a gory memory of a person he had tortured; he had been eighteen at the time. The man’s face contorted with pain and he cried out, begging for mercy.

Inflicting pain was part of serving Malluk, and Mathias had done it well. Unlike others, he had never used tools or divine magic––he had always used his bare hands. His mother had used her powers, but often she had been the same. They had both liked the hands-on experience.

The pool showed some of his time in Seaport. It showed bits of his and Vivyka’s relationship, including what he did to her on the night she left. After that, he had moved to Oraunt and served at the temple there for a few years. The next several memories were filled with pain or pleasure, violence or sex—that had been his life.

He moved to Halimi when he was twenty-one, and there was more of the same there. On his next trip to Malluk’s true temple that year, he saw his mother’s ghost, and she ordered him to find a way to bring her back to life, but it took him almost two years to do much of anything about it. He was always too busy with his own amusements. His mother had tried to threaten him with her energy magic—the only power she had as a spirit—but he knew she wouldn’t actually do much. He was her heir, her only tie to the Mortal Plane, and completely necessary in bringing her back. But he finally did his duty… or started trying to, at least.

Next, it started showing some memories of his time with Tess and Ayden. Matt didn’t want to see Sera’s face, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking. She was on her knees now; she looked pale and like she was in physical pain. He couldn’t imagine what this was doing to her. Even without her empathy, he couldn’t believe that someone like her could really know anything about evil, about what people like him were capable of. He wished with everything in him that he could take it all back––that he could just end her suffering, make her forget that he even existed.

She winced and cried harder, and he turned his attention back to the pool, surprised at the image there. It was just the memory of him bound and getting beat by Vivyka.

Reuben, who had been observing with an extreme detachment, now looked at Vivyka with narrowed eyes. Suddenly, the pool and memories disappeared, the sky lightened, and the silence spell lifted. “Your justice was done by your own hand, and still you came to me?”

Vivyka shifted uncomfortably. “I… Sera sent people to protect him. She needed to understand. I didn’t want her to be like me.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but the cleric was unmoved. “You withheld pertinent information from a justice cleric,” he told her severely. “You will be punished for this.”

Sera sank even further to the ground, slumping forward as if a heavy weight was on her back. Her hands pressed against the grass for support. She stared blankly as tears continued to fall, the drops landing on her fingers.

Matt forced himself to look at the cleric and speak. “I don’t know if I have a say in this. But I’ve deserved everything. I don’t think Vivyka should be punished––she’s suffered enough because of me.”

Reuben studied him for a moment, considering. Finally, he nodded. “Very well,” he told him, and then looked back at Vivyka. “This will be dismissed, but if there are any future offenses…”

Vivyka met Matt’s gaze. She stared in shock and shook her head slowly. “There won’t be,” she promised. Finally, she looked at Sera, and her expression changed to one of intense misery. “I’m so sorry, Sera,” she told her in a whisper. “I didn’t know… I thought he was lying. I just wanted…” She couldn’t finish.

“We are done here,” Reuben announced. “Sera”—he walked over and touched her shoulder lightly—“come, let me assist you.”

Sera grabbed the hand he offered and struggled to her feet, panting softly. She clung to him as if she didn’t have the strength to stand by herself.

Then, suddenly, Matt found himself back in his bed.

It was over.

Everything was over.