Chapter 28: His False Confession

Raziel stared at Brother Thomas’s back as he walked away down the hall and, for a second, reality blurred because his mind dragged him to another time.

He remembered the orphanage in his past life, an old building where the wind sneaked through the cracks but always felt warm thanks to Thomas.

“You are very quiet, Raziel,” Thomas had told him that time. “This place brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Raziel nodded in his memory, watching the kids run in the dirt yard.

“It is weird being in charge, Thomas. I spent so much time cleaning blood and closing dead people’s eyes in the hospice that seeing so much life makes me a bit dizzy.”

Thomas let out one of those laughs of his that made his chest vibrate.

“The Church trusts you and I do too, son. You have a gift for connecting with people, even if you insist on hiding, those kids will be fine with you.”

That memory shattered suddenly when Lucian’s bucket of dirty water hit the stone floor of St. Celeste’s hallway.

Raziel gripped the wet rag in his hand until his knuckles turned white because the feeling of loneliness was crushing.

He wanted to scream at Thomas to wait, tell him he knew what was coming and how to save him, but he swallowed the words because he knew any mistake could cost him his head.

“Hey, did you fall asleep standing up?” Lucian whispered, giving him a soft shove. “Oriel keeps looking at us and if he sees you slacking he’s gonna run to Marius.”

Raziel blinked to wipe away the blue System notification floating in his retina and let out a tired sigh.

“I’m fine, just thinking about how much I hate cleaning windows,” Raziel lied naturally.

They kept working a while longer under Oriel’s poisonous glare until the sun started to go down.

Raziel hoped to go to sleep and process his new powers in silence, but fate had other plans because heavy steps echoed from the other end of the corridor.

It wasn’t Thomas this time.

It was an older acolyte with a grim face and a badge Raziel recognized instantly.

“Raziel. Lucian,” the acolyte called with a dry voice, ignoring Oriel completely. “Father Marius requires your presence in his office. Right now.”

Lucian went pale and dropped the mop, which fell with a dry thud against the tiles.

“Now? But we haven’t finished the punishment,” the noble stammered, looking at Raziel with panic in his eyes.

“Do you think Oriel…?”

“Shut up,” Raziel murmured without moving his lips, keeping an expression of innocent confusion.

“Just follow me and don’t say anything stupid.”

They walked behind the acolyte through hallways that now seemed much longer and darker, and Raziel felt a pressure in his stomach.

Upon arriving at Father Marius’s office, the acolyte opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

Father Marius was sitting behind his desk, but he didn’t look like the executioner from the morning, instead he looked like a cornered man, sweating and rubbing his hands nervously.

And then Raziel saw why.

Standing next to the window, outlined against the sunset light, was a tall figure dressed in a flawless black robe and silver embroidery that shined like razor-sharp teeth.

An Inquisitor.

Raziel knew Inquisitors didn’t make social visits to a novice academy.

“Come in, come in,” Marius said with a trembling voice, pointing to two empty chairs. “The… The Inquisitor has some questions for you.”

The Inquisitor turned slowly and his cold eyes pierced them as if they were insects.

“My, my, so these are the famous troublemakers,” the man said with a soft voice that was much more terrifying than any scream. “Interesting reports have reached me from the capital.”

Lucian swallowed hard, loud enough to be heard in the entire room, but Raziel took a step forward and used his perfect novice posture, lowering his head with respect but without fear.

“Reports, excellency?” Raziel asked with a tone of genuine confusion. “We only went to the Royal Monastery as part of the guided tour. There was a small misunderstanding with the schedules, but that is all.”

The Inquisitor smiled.

“A misunderstanding?” he repeated, walking toward them with slow and measured steps. “My sources speak of something very different, they speak of dark energies detected in the crypt, of broken seals and a trail of magic that no novice should be capable of casting.”

The man stopped right in front of Raziel, invading his personal space until Raziel could smell the stale incense and the metal of his clothes.

“Curiously, you were right in the center of all that chaos, boy.”

Lucian started to shake visibly next to him and Raziel knew that if his friend opened his mouth they were dead, so he decided to take the initiative.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, sir,” Raziel said, looking him in the eyes with a perfect mix of fear and honesty. “I am just a first-year novice. I can barely light a candle with my prayers, much less break seals in a royal crypt.”

The Inquisitor let out a laugh and leaned toward him, lowering his voice until turning it into a dangerous whisper.

“Don’t play games with me, kid. I have witnesses who saw strange lights and felt the cold of death. The Inquisition does not believe in coincidences.”

He turned sharply toward Lucian, who jumped in fright.

“And you, boy?” barked the Inquisitor. “Your friend seems to have a very bad memory, but maybe you can enlighten us. What did you really see down there?”

Lucian looked desperately at Raziel for help.

“I… we…” Lucian stammered, with sweat running down his forehead. “We were just…”

“It was my fault,” Raziel interrupted suddenly, drawing the Inquisitor’s gaze back to him. “I convinced Lucian to go down because I wanted to see the heroes’ tombs. It was stupid of me, a childish curiosity, but we didn’t see anything magical, we got scared by the darkness and ran out, that’s all.”

The Inquisitor studied him for a few eternal seconds, looking for any crack in his story, any sign of a lie, but Raziel’s [Acting] skill kept his pulse steady and his face under control.

Finally, the man in black clicked his tongue with disgust.

“A childish curiosity that smells like heresy,” he said with contempt. “Very well. If you don’t want to talk here, maybe your tongues will loosen in the interrogation rooms.”

Marius let out a choked moan from his desk.

“Please, excellency, they are just children…”

“They are suspects,” the Inquisitor cut him off, signaling to the door. “Take them away. We are going to get to the bottom of this, even if I have to rip the truth out of them piece by piece.”

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