Righteous Flame
Sharp, wet leaves scrape against Rafaele’s face with each step into the dark woods. The rain has ceased but the mud, like glue, makes progress impossible. The child’s cries are hoarse from hours of screaming, now but whimpers against the priest’s rough cloak. Rafaele takes that moment to kneel beneath a large fallen oak and listens. He can no longer hear the shouts from the Queen’s guard or the wails from the desperate mother. He knows that after this moment, the High Priestess will no longer accept him in the temple. Even in this mission’s success. Rafaele spits on the ground, his throat parched from the hike. He has never dared to venture this deep into the forest, no one has, for fear of encountering creatures of wings and fire. Tonight, it is their kind he seeks.