Chapter Text
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
― Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven
The plague was spreading as never before, and the sun was dying, little by little.
It was an auspicious beginning for the Grand Inquisitor was close to establishing order—his order.
Hundreds of citizens gathered outside the cathedral, waiting and cheering for the pope to come to light and deliver his sermon. The city ward could barely control the agitated mass, though not all of them had good in mind. Where there was love, there was also hate. Those who did not exult over the pope had worse in mind. Death was nothing compared to it. Among them was Amicia de Rune, armed and determined to save her brother, even after all these long and exhausting years. She was tired of waiting, tired of listening to those close to her. All the wait and strategies felt like a waste of time. The world was collapsing around them. All they could do was watch powerlessly. She was Hugo’s protector—she believed she was the only one who could bring him to his senses.
Amicia was waiting amid the mass of people, her cold gaze never faltering as she awaited Vitalis Bénévent’s appearance on the cathedral’s balcony. It was only a matter of time until she would steal herself into the building and find her brother, without considering the consequences of her upcoming actions. She was driven by her impulse to conquer anything on her way. And as so often, it was hard to change her mind. For Hugo, she would do anything. He was the world to her.
Her focus broke the moment the many screams of joy filled the air. The pope, or rather the Grand Inquisitor, finally showed himself. Amicia was disgusted by how much the people around her appeared to worship Vitalis. Then again, they had no idea how much of a ruthless man he was. Europe was falling apart under his reign. They never wanted to see or listen to the truth as they were blinded by his empty promises, promises of a better world and a cure for all of them. But could she blame them? They were desperate and full of hope . . . just like herself.
Vitalis’ speech had been ignored by Amicia. It was always the same—full of lies and distortions—merely spoken the other way around. Though, as irritated and adamant as she was, her heart almost stopped at the sight of the cloaked figure appearing beside Vitalis. Was it him? She was agog with expectation, as though she could run up to her dear brother and embrace him like back in the day. A smile even crept to her lips at the mere thought. But as so often, her mind was playing tricks on her. It was but another bishop, and yet, if Hugo was not by his Vitalis’ side, he must have been otherwise engaged. What if he was not even in the cathedral? Amicia did not want to believe it. Wherever Vitalis was, Hugo was never far away. Naturally, the Grand Inquisitor could not risk losing his most powerful tool so easily, not until he could take full advantage of the potential provided by the Prima Macula.
Her stomach dropped, and her anger rose. She was not going to wait any longer.
* * * * * *
The dancing light of the fireplace was all he needed to illuminate the room. He liked it dark—they liked it dark. A pair of glowing eyes rested upon the relaxing carrier, but it did not move. It was afraid of the fire. And then the voices returned, mingling with the gentle crackling of the fire and the muffled noises coming from outside. It was annoying . . . the people were annoying. Their yelling was awaking his friends, their hunger growing with each passing moment. There was no reaction, however, because he was engrossed in thought, his mind dwelling upon the task given by his Father. His grip tightened, and digits gently crawled into the apple, its juice running down his blackened veins. He tried to focus, just the way he learned it, and his muscles relaxed before he gave in to the burning feeling within him. He felt how danger was brewing in the vicinity. His friends grew more nervous beneath the ground where they found shelter during the day, but unlike them, he felt at ease again. The white rat lingering in the shadows came out of hiding and crawled up the seat to the carrier. He rarely smiled these days, but being in control of the forces provided by the Macula was satisfying.
“Lord Hugo.” A familiar voice broke the silence, hesitantly approaching him. “His Holiness awaits your presence.”
Hugo remained silent still, listening to the fear of the servant and his racing heartbeat that echoed through his mind. They feared him and his dear rodents, as much as they feared his Father. It was strange. They merely tried to establish order. How could they be plagued by fears when there was nothing but success? Hugo reached for the rat that rested on his shoulder, his grasp gentle at first—lovingly even—until he gradually applied pressure as he watched it desperately trying to free itself, but all for naught. Its sudden squeaking and wriggling did not stop him. Its suffering lasted for too long until all that remained was blood and remains dripping down Hugo’s hand.
“You see, they are delicate creatures. There is no reason to fear them. They want to live and eat as we all do.” His voice was calm, just like his gaze that had turned to the servant.
It was bone-chilling. The loyal servant felt each of his nerves tensing further.
”How does my Father seek my presence if he isn’t done with his duty yet?” Hugo inquired calmly, though one never knew if he was truly as minded as he appeared to be.
The servant merely offered a quick nod. ”I apologize, my Lord. I do only bring word as I was ordered.”
Hugo stood up eventually, his mere movement causing the servant to shrink into himself.
”What are you waiting for then? Lead the way.” Hugo ordered before tossing the juicy apple into the fire, following the servant down the corridor leading to Vitalis’ quarters.
He was not there yet, just as Hugo was expecting it. He would glance at the servant, watching how he nervously cleared the table and served wine. By the sight of it, Hugo could assume that his Father was about to celebrate something, something he clearly was not acquainted with yet. In a way, it was rather peculiar; Vitalis had always informed him about his plans before anyone else. Following the broad daylight gleaming onto the floor coming from the gap in the curtains, Hugo glanced out of the window. Many people came to see his Father, and while it was a pleasing sight, something managed to cause him discomfort. There was a growing feeling of menace.
Hugo’s attention was drawn to the door as he heard his friends scratching at the walls from within. Something disturbed their peace. He inhaled deeply with closed eyes, his mind wandering to those serving him whenever he reached out to them. The rats tried to impede the threat. A brief moment was needed until Hugo saw through their very eyes, his mind linked to theirs as he controlled them through the rooms. Though the explorement did not last long; a bowl of fire hit them that caused Hugo to snap out of their mind like a shot.
It was her.
His ever so motionless expression was tinted with resentment, and the dark veins spreading across his face became plainly visible.
”There’s a threat in our midst. I will take care of it,” Hugo informed the servant as he rushed over to the door, not hesitating a moment to pursue the lead guiding to the threat being dangerously close to them. He had no idea how she managed to invade so easily. It could only mean that the guards were unwary. It angered Hugo immensely, so much that his sentiment projected onto the already nervous rats waiting to emerge onto the surface.
He walked through the rooms and corridors with determination, the rats never far away from him. It was as though the earth was grumbling underneath his feet, reacting to his steps like a wave of an onslaught. The dim lights on the wall were swallowed by a force created by nothing but the Macula itself as he walked past them—a gentle gust of wind that was reacting to his will.
It did not take long after Hugo had entered the large cathedral’s hall, the floors decorated with lifeless bodies whose blood mingled well with the ruby ornaments engraved on the floor. She was here—she still was. Hugo let his hungry rodents indulge in devouring the dead men as he stepped on the altar, his eyes fixed on the ritualistic scepter that belonged to no other than the Grand Inquisitor himself.
”It’s time to return home, Hugo.”
There she stood, armed with her sword and a gaze so sharp that it could cut through the air. And yet, despite the rising wrath within her, Amicia felt her heart becoming heavy just at the mere sight of her corrupted brother. Could she really bear up against him? It was not the first time she had faced Hugo like this, though their last encounter had claimed the lives of many people. But even after all these years, she never gave up hope—she was confident that she could save him from the curse. Everything was better than leaving him to the Inquisition and Prima Macula. Their paths had already been detached for far too long. Amicia could not bear to watch him becoming tainted any longer. He was not lost yet.
”It was bold of you to come here,” Hugo remarked, his voice painfully callous. “Was the lesson I taught you not enough?”
His words stirred up emotions Amicia wished she could forget. Oh, it was painful to see him like this still, so far away from her and anything they went through, be it good or bad. But they had each other once—a real family. Now, he was nothing but a tool Vitalis viewed as a means to an end. They took him away from her, and they will pay for it, every single one of them.
Amicia could not utter a single word. He was not her little, innocent brother anymore. Not because he appeared all grown up, but because he lost his innocence the moment he did kill. And it was all her fault—she did encourage him then. He would not have become the person he was if she could have prevented the terrible events. She would amend the wrong, even atone for her sins if she had to! As long as she could stand and fight, she was not about to give up on her brother that deserved so much better.
” . . . I know you are still there, Hugo. I may have failed as a protector, but I will give you the life you deserve.”
”Charming.” A pinch of scorn grazed his retort. Hugo was tired of her repetitive talk, his eyes wandering to the rats busy feeding on the dead. “You are surrounded by my dear friends. And more are waiting for a feast.”
”Your friends?” Amicia returned bewildered. “Your real friends and family are waiting for you at home, where you belong. To us.” It was always the same, even so, she knew her Hugo was still there, merely hidden behind the veil of the Macula condensing around him, perhaps even being unscathed.
“I told you to leave me be many times, but you didn’t want to listen.” Hugo finally turned to look at Amicia, his unyielding gaze firmly set on her.
Amicia’s eyes narrowed at her brother, both love and hate ever so present.
“You’re making a huge mistake, Hugo! People will die!”
“Yes, because of you.”
“Me?” she scoffed.
“That is what I said.” Hugo returned knowingly, almost haughty even.
Amicia had enough of his attitude. She pulled out a phial, the grip on the hilt of her sword never loosening. How far could she go this time? Was she able to push the boundaries?
She slowly began to move toward him. “I love you, Hugo. But you leave me no choice.”
Hugo’s focus never wavered. Earth was beginning to roar for there was turmoil brewing beneath the surface of the cathedral.
“Stop this madness. You are better than this—better than them!” Amicia tried to get through to him as so many times before, the displeasure tinting her voice hardly unmistakable.
Now the ground began to quiver, but she did not let it get to herself.
Black veins re-emerged, and his pulse quickened. “You are pushing your luck,” Hugo warned.
Amicia almost felt the urge to grin at his warning.
“I don’t need luck,” she returned with steely determination. “Fire is always with me.”
Fire.
Hugo’s mind connected with the power provided by the Macula, causing a sudden gust of wind to shoot through the hall that erased any living flame.
An unexpected move, but she was prepared.
Amicia threw the phial onto the floor and fire arose. Her sword bathed in the pitiless heat until it was embraced by the fire itself. She had to hurry—each of her steps carried her faster now.
Suddenly rats burst to the surface with a force so vigorous that the floor collapsed in many areas. They scuttled after Amicia though the fire lightening the sword hindered them from getting any closer.
”They will come for blood,” Hugo threatened coldly.
The altar caved in then, and a breach loomed up across the floor that prevented Amicia to reach her brother. More rats emerged, quickly forming a small wall to protect the carrier. Was she underestimating his actions?
“You always hide when you’re sad. I know you can still hear me, Hugo! Vitalis is using you. You mean nothing to him! Please, listen to me!” Amicia pleaded, her breath becoming heavier with the stifling air spreading in the hall.
Hugo’s gaze hardened as he embraced the opportunity to silence her. “You’ve already made your choice,” he pointed out before the windows around them shattered and even more rats appeared through them.
A great change could be heard from outside. Amicia could not help but take a few steps back while swinging her sword to keep the rats at bay. How was she supposed to get to him? She did not think he would use these powers to such an extent, not when she was the cause. She could hear Lucas’ words in her head, words that told her that Hugo was not himself anymore . . . that he would do anything to change the world as long as he was one with the Macula. But Amicia did not want to accept it.
She should leave, but something in her urged her to stay.
“Milady! Over here!” Two veiled women by a postern tried to beckon Amicia over, the torch they carried another light in the nebulous dark.
Wide eyes turned to the source of the noise, causing Amicia to freeze on the spot.
“Please, quick! We know a way out,” one of them urged.
Amicia hesitated when her attention drifted to Hugo who seemed more than eager to give her hell, his approach like a dangerous shadow wanting to devour any light. It hurt so much. Though the nervous rats surrounding her pulled her back to reality, and she finally gathered her wits together.
All she could offer was one last glance at her brother, her eyes full of sorrow and fear.
I’ll come back for you, Hugo. I will save you. No matter what.
It was then that she followed the women, and they rushed through the basement as if death was close on their trail. And in a way, it was.
They had led Hugo’s sister to a hidden entrance, one of their movements swift as they opened the door and handed Amicia the torch. “There’s chaos out there, but this is the best route to escape.”
”Why are you doing this?” A look of puzzlement grazed Amicia’s features. Many questions filled her mind, but so little time was left.
Her question was left unanswered, one of the women's gazes casting to the ground fleetingly. “We have our reasons. Now leave if you want to live.”
It was rather odd, to say the least, but Amicia offered a nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you.”
And when she finally left, all she could do was just wait and see. The scene of devastation smothered her all at once. Amicia could not move a bit as she witnessed how desperate townspeople were hungrily devoured by rats or tried to run away from death. Terror and woe engulfed the once lively streets, the screams a terrible flavor to the chaos. Was all this pain the cause of her actions? Trembling fingers gently rubbed her forehead as her eyes began to burn. Guilt took over her like a huge wave of water she nearly drowned in.
What have I done?
Rats eagerly scuttled through the postern with Hugo close behind, the trail still fresh and revealing. And yet, his steps slowed when his eyes landed on a member of the Inquisition near the secret passage.
“Lord Hugo.” The woman bowed, her head never moving to look up at the carrier. “I tried to stop her but she was too fast.”
The rats' squeaking was almost soothing as opposed to the painful quiet fraught with a menace that had settled in between them. Hugo let his attention roam about the darkened area before approaching her slowly, his expression as unreadable as ever when he leaned in. “The truth, please.”
Something was stirring deep within the walls.
The woman met Hugo’s distant gaze hesitantly. “She . . . was too fast for me. I— couldn’t stop her.” Her eyes happened to drift to the rats near him, those that did not attack her despite no light hindering them.
There was no reaction besides Hugo turning around, seemingly wanting to leave which caused the woman to heave a silent sigh of relief.
“I don’t like being lied to.” His voice carried an armor of indifference, though if listened closely, one could perceive a touch of melancholia.
Hugo distanced himself from the disloyal member before a horde of rats crashed through the wall, devouring her in less than a moment. He was not willing to offer protection to traitors.
Her fleeting suffering had been ignored as he was heading back to the havocked hall, only to get greeted by his stunned Father.
Vitalis appeared to be in awe of the destruction, barely able to speak when he approached the breach. His smile was oddly satisfying.
“You did great, Hugo,” Vitalis encouraged him while the rats around him moved aside, allowing him to get a better look at the collapsed altar. “Did you finally kill her?” he inquired eagerly, his gaze expecting.
Hugo did remain silent, however, as his attention was drawn to the huge opened cathedral entrance. Turmoil reached his ears. His curiosity lured him toward the noise, and his intuition did not fail him. His little friends came for blood. The streets were devastated, and the air was hazy—the many black flakes floating about radiated a stifling atmosphere. He had no idea his call was reaching so far.
Vitalis soon found himself beside his protégé. A pleasing smile formed on his lined face, the suffering of the people music to his ears. “Your powers are growing more and more, and so are mine.”
Hugo dreamed of it—how the Macula created this new world. It was beautiful. Changes were necessary, and those who did not want to see the truth had to learn it by the force of the Macula itself, a force that ran through his very veins. Though he did not have to carry the burden himself, his Father did lift a great weight off him.
“We have to discuss your next task, come to me after your treatment,” Vitalis ordered before retreating into his chambers, along with the rats that had left the area without further ado.
A nod of understanding followed. “Yes, Father.”
Hugo nearly forgot about his treatment. After this event, he likely would need an extended session to appease his powers. It was then that he felt a gentle and quite familiar touch upon his shoulder. A veiled woman showed herself beside him with a comforting smile. Wherever he was, she was never far away. It was an order from his Father she never objected to.
”I know it’s troublesome, but I’m afraid we have to take care of your condition yet again,” she said, her hand resting on Hugo’s arm.
He already knew. No words were needed to affirm the truth. Hugo eventually ordered the members of the Inquisition to remove the mess and to get his Father’s scepter back lying deeper in the earth than expected. Protest never got his men anywhere, as a result, they complied with no hesitation before Hugo left with the Magistra to reach the cathedral’s underground facility. Another place graced with a noble ambiance one would never expect to be so deep in the bowels of the earth.
* * * * * *
Hugo’s cold eyes observed how his vital fluid was taken from him, how each drop filled the flacon with thick blood barely able to escape his arm. He did not feel anything. The Magistra was careful nonetheless, her studied movements reassuring, but it was hard to ignore her containment whenever she was ordered to take what was his. She seated herself in front of Hugo then, her steady posture never faltering when she held the syringe cautiously.
“You’re quiet today, My Lord,” she remarked, her attention briefly shifting to her commander.
His thoughts kept him busy, thoughts that were mostly swarmed with Amicia—the want to eliminate her was growing in him with each passing day. She was a threat that he longer wanted to convince to join him and his Inquisition. She made her decision, and he made his own, though her refusal to accept his choice was tedious. She had to be stopped, no matter what. And he knew, whenever they would cross paths anew, she would not escape him this easily again. It was not the only topic bothering him, however.
Hugo looked at the Magistra, his gaze was rather unyielding. “Your assistant betrayed us, Claire.”
“I should’ve been more careful with her,” she admitted, but her eyes kept glued on the full flacon. She withdrew the needle digging deep into his flesh slow and steady before she dabbed off the blood running down the arm, coloring the floor underneath their chairs. She did not mean to wound him in the process. Another cloth was pressing against the slightly leaking wound.
The pause that followed could have been almost suspicious, but Claire merely did her duty.
She met Hugo’s gaze, and even though she hesitated to speak, she offered a suggestive look. ”I hope she got what she deserved.”
“And what would it be, according to your opinion?” Hugo was curious.
He was testing her, was he not? Claire could not hide a small smile.
“Death is a gift and she didn’t deserve it. Her betrayal should’ve been punished with an appropriate dose of suffering.”
Hugo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “But you didn’t even know what she did.”
He could have sworn he saw dismay in her eyes.
Claire averted his piercing look, her attention shifting to the cloth she had removed from his old wound. “It does not matter. Betrayal is betrayal, and so is heresy,” she remarked while wrapping a bandage around his arm, her touch ever so carefully.
Hugo hummed softly in return. He understood what she was trying to explain.
“I appreciate your honesty.” He truly did. Among all members, Claire was one of the few whose words he could put his trust into. Hugo rose then, his sleeve rolling down as he glanced at the fireplace, if only fleetingly. “Thank you.”
“Always, my Lord.” A weak smile was given to him as she bowed courteously. “His Holiness awaits you.”
“I don’t have to be reminded,” Hugo stated firmly, his expression a small bit daunting. “I may have lost blood, but not my mind.”
“Of course not.”
A lump was forming in Claire’s throat. Oh, deep down she knew much more than she expressed, and it took so much to remain calm. If only he knew what truly happened with his mind—old memories were gone, greatly poisoned, and fading. His mind must have been darker than night itself. She sense feel it. The Prima Macula left a seed thriving inside him, though ill weeds grew apace. Once she was supposed to cure the plagued, but today she was there to study the carrier.
Hugo deemed Claire’s following silence as a sign of understanding. Leaving the infirmary behind, he wondered what other task his Father was about to bestow on him. Though, whatever it may be, he was as encouraged as ever.