"No. We will not leave." Veraque professed resolutely, even with the chaos all around her. "We have to find a way to stop them!"
"Are you mad!" He yelled at her, his anger breaking through. "They are not an enemy we can fight. And your mandate of cancelling out violence is useless, because they don't even fight."
His voice dropped dangerously low, self-centered fear seeping through. "They take away your pride. Your reason for living. I've heard the stories; people driven to madness because of despair and hopelessness." He shot a dirty look. At me. "I don't want to end up like him."
"That's enough." Tav said, stepping in front of me to block his gaze. "If your pride is your only reason for living, then I don't think you've lived a very meaningful life." And in my heart I knew he was talking about me. Trying to take me on his 'third path'. The bruises from him were starting to dull, but his words were still sharp in my ears.
"Besides," Tav continued. "It is like you said. We can't leave this place after all the work we've put into building it up, and then try restarting all over again."
"Of course we can!" He shouted now, spittle leaving his lips. "We can leave, rebuild and start again-"
"And have to abandon it all again when another Virtue Priestess waltzes in?" Tav said, folding his arms.
Everyone else was already evacuating, most running north, some even into the forests.
Some had even taken some of the tamed moose and were running away.
"If this pathetic excuse for a Virtue Priestess actually had a useful Mandate," The man yelled enraged, "We wouldn't need to run away. We would actually be able to combat the scouts. We wouldn't even be in the wild trying to rebuild from scratch!"
Veraque tried to speak up, but she couldn't, because she knew everything he was saying was true. If Veraque couldn't even stand up to the other Virtue Priestesses, could she even count as one?
The people left in the camp were already dwindling in number, and on the horizon, I could see the scouts.
They numbered around ten-twenty. Not a lot, but the fact that they had struck fear into so many people spoke volumes of what they were capable of.
And in their hands, a huge flag the size of a banner was held at the forefront. It was a brown cloth, and in the centre: Seven golden pillars crested in the shape of rectangles, only the one in the middle was lower than all the rest.
That must have been Humility's twisted way of reasoning true humility was valuing others as superior to you, and even though I hated it, in my situation, I couldn't disagree.
Some of the people who hadn't run away took arms to fight, but of course they wouldn't succeed. One touch from the assholes in brown robes and they crumbled to the floor, clutching and weeping, mentally broken. Like Tav who had received a blessing from Charity, these guys must have been given a blessing from Humility, one that allowed them to use the Sacrament of Submission.
Veraque clenched her fists, bit her lips, but then she finally spoke. "I'll speak to the scouts."
Tav turned sharply. "You can't."
Veraque didn't answer him. She was already walking—slow, deliberate steps forward, each one trembling slightly. I could tell she was scared. Her Mandate didn't make her invincible. If anything, it made her fragile. The absence of violence wasn't peace; it was silence. And silence, against an enemy like Humility, was like bleeding into snow—unseen, but deadly.
The rest of us stood in place, watching her approach the ridge where the scouts had crested. They hadn't drawn weapons—of course they hadn't. I doubt they even had any weapons on them. That wasn't their way.
"What are you going to do, Bon?" Tav asked me. We had only three options: run away, submit to Humility, or oppose them. Wrong. I only had two. Tav would not let me run away.
Veraque stopped a few paces from the scouts. Her arms were raised—not in surrender, but in openness. Her lips moved. I strained to hear, but the wind took her voice.
Then the scout replied.
She didn't move. She didn't shout. She simply talked to her. I could still make out her features from here. I could see her nodding, and her shapely eyebrows frowning. Her shoulders stiffened.
Then she turned, and walked back to us.
Everyone was staring at her now—those who hadn't run, those who were too tired or too stubborn to flee. Eyes wide. Hope and terror tangled together.
"What did they say?"
She didn't answer immediately. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and I could see it in her body.
She hated the way she couldn't be more useful. She couldn't defend the people she had sought to protect.
"They said they don't see my position as Virtue Priestess of Kindness as valid because of the inactivity of the other Priestesses before me." She seethed between clenched teeth.
"They say they are here to collect the lost disciples," Veraque continued, her voice hollow. "And to bring them back to the domain of Humility. Anyone who resists will be... corrected. They said we only have five minutes."
The word made my skin crawl. I knew what "corrected" meant.
The man in the black coat spat on the ground. "There. Now you understand. Most of the other representatives have run away or been subdued. We have no choice but to—"
"Wait," I said, surprising even myself as the word left my mouth.
Everyone turned to look at me. I wasn't used to being the center of attention. Not since I'd lost my Pride. Usually, I was content to let others make decisions, to follow Tav's lead, to hide behind Veraque's kindness. But something was crystallizing in my mind—a pattern I'd seen earlier in the forest.
"The food chain," I muttered, more to myself than to them.
"What?" Tav asked, adjusting Col's box on his shoulder.
I looked up at the tree line, remembering the sequence—lizards eating ants, birds eating lizards, and then the Flayer taking the bird. Nature's cruel hierarchy. But,what if. . .
"The Flayers," I said, louder this time. "They don't attack when Veraque's around because of her domain, but they'll attack anything else."
Kuti's eyes widened with confusion. "So?"
My voice grew stronger. "Humility's scouts don't carry weapons because they don't need them. They break you with a touch. But what if they couldn't touch us? What if something else hit them first?"
The man in the black coat stared at me with newfound interest. "You're suggesting we use the Flayers against them?"
I nodded. Tav was already shaking his head. "That's too dangerous. We can't control the Flayers."
"We don't need to control them," I explained, my mind racing ahead. "We just need to lure them. The scouts are in their path. If Veraque establishes her domain around us..."
"We'd be protected," Kuti finished for me, "but the scouts wouldn't be."
Veraque frowned. "I can't use my Mandate to deliberately harm others. That violates the essence of Kindness."
"You won't be harming anyone," I countered. Why was I doing this? Maybe it was because I felt useless all this while and I was now coming up with this crackpot idea to feel useful. Maybe it was because no one else knew what to do. Veraque couldn't do anything but stand by and watch her people run away or be broken. Tav's healing can't do anything against people that don't leave injuries. Fighting them head on would be a horrible idea. "You'll be protecting us. What happens outside your domain isn't your responsibility."
She held my gaze, troubled by my logic but unable to refute it.
"We won't hurt them, Veraque." I said strangely calm as I looked at her straight in her golden eyes. She looked away tense and nervous, so I hoped that meant she agreed.
"Tav," I said, turning to him. "You need to take one of the moose and ride back to the forest—to where we saw the Flayers. Make noise, get their attention, and lead them back here."
"That's suicide," the man in the black coat said.
"Not if he's fast enough," I replied. "The moose can outrun them in open terrain. And once he's back within Veraque's domain, they can't touch him."
Tav looked at me for a long moment. I expected him to refuse, to call my plan monstrous. Instead, he carefully set down Col's box and handed it to Kuti.
"Take care of her," he said softly. Then to me: "You've changed, Bon."
I couldn't tell if it was approval or concern in his voice. Maybe this was the third path he had been talking about all along.
"I haven't changed," I said. "I've just learned what happens when you show weakness." I gestured toward the scouts on the ridge. "They take everything that matters."
Without another word, Tav strode toward the remaining moose tethered near the camp's edge. He untied one—a massive bull with broad antlers—and swung himself onto its back.
"How many Flayers do you need?" he asked, and the casual way he said it sent a chill through me.
"As many as you can bring," I answered. "Just make sure you can outrun them."
He nodded once, then spurred the moose toward the forest.
I turned to Veraque and Kuti. "We need to gather everyone who's left. Get them close together so Veraque's domain can cover all of us."
"And what if this doesn't work?" Kuti asked, clutching Col's box to her chest. "What if the Flayers ignore the scouts and just circle around us?"
"Then we'll still be protected in Veraque's domain," I said, though I knew it wasn't a real answer. Her domain wouldn't last forever. Eventually, we'd have to leave it, and the Flayers would be waiting.
But I didn't share that concern. Because somehow, deep down, I knew the Flayers would go for the easiest prey. People untouched by Veraque's protection. People who thought their touch could break others when they themselves were just flesh and blood.
"They'll come for the scouts first," I said with quiet certainty. "Trust me."
Veraque touched my arm gently. "This isn't like you, Bon. Using creatures to attack others... it's—"
"It's what they deserve," I finished, more harshly than I intended. "I'm not like you, Veraque. I can't defeat them with kindness. I can't heal like Tav. I can't even die properly like Col. All I can do is think. And right now, I'm thinking we either use what advantages we have, or we lose everything."
Her hand fell away from my arm. For a moment, I thought I saw disappointment in her eyes. But then she nodded.
"Start gathering everyone," she said. "I'll prepare to establish my domain when Tav returns."
As she walked away, Kuti lingered beside me, Col's box still in her arms.
"You know what this means, right?" she asked quietly. "If your plan works, if the scouts are attacked..."
"They'll retreat," I said firmly. "Or they'll die. Either way, we survive."
She studied my face. "Is that what matters most to you now? Just survival?"
The question caught me off guard. What did matter to me? Not Pride—that had been taken. Not purpose—that had been lost. Perhaps only this: ensuring that those who had helped me wouldn't suffer the same fate I had.
"What matters," I said carefully, "is that they don't take from us what they took from me."
In the distance, I could see Tav disappearing into the tree line. Soon he would return, and behind him would come creatures of pure hunger. I thought about the fire-like birds, the lizards, the ants—all locked in their endless cycle of consumption. Now we were joining that cycle, turning predator against predator.
"So what do we do now?" Kuti asked, adjusting Col's box on her back as we turned to look at the scouts waiting over the ridge. They had given us five minutes. About two had already passed. It was left for Tav to hold his part of the plan and bring the Flayers here.
"Now" I said.
"We wait."