Page 39 of Thunder's Reckoning

A righteous omen.

The Children of the Flame stood silent, rows of bodies tight as bricks, heads bowed, hands clasped. Even the smallest children were hushed, though I could feel their trembling travel through the ground. They’d been taught well. The fire teaches early.

The Flame Bearers stood ready on either side of the platform, their faces painted in purity: white across the eyes, black across the mouths. Sight without sin. Silence without question.

Tallis knelt in the center, wrists bound, face swollen and purpled with bruises. He should’ve looked broken. Instead, he stared ahead, jaw clenched, eyes steady. Defiance where there should have been repentance. He wouldn’t beg. He thought it gave him strength.

Fool.

I stepped onto the platform, robes brushing the wood like whispers of ash. My flock pressed in closer, hearts thudding, lungs waiting for my words to decide the rhythm of their breathing.

I lifted my hand.

Stillness deepened.

“My flock,” I said, voice smooth, rich, carrying like smoke across the rows. “We gather in sorrow… and in clarity. For the Book of the Returning Flame tells us:Let not the rot fester among you, for what betrays the body must be excised with holy fire.”

“Amen,” they answered in one voice.

I circled Tallis slowly, each step measured. “This man—this traitor—once bore the light. He prayed beside us. He swore loyalty. But rot crept in. Doubt took root.”

I stopped behind him, laid a hand on his bruised shoulder. He flinched, but his head stayed high.

“He whispered poison,” I said. “He opened gates that were sealed by fire. He aided in the poisoning of my sacred flame.”

Sable. Her name cracked through me like thunder. Even now I could feel her absence like a wound that would not close.

“She was sanctified,” I said, louder. “Anointed by the Circle, sealed in divine purpose. And he stole her from us.”

Tallis lifted his head, blood dripping from his split lip. “You took everything from her first. Her mother. Her childhood. Her future. I only gave her a door.”

The crowd stirred. My fingers twitched. I wanted to strike him where he knelt, but ritual demanded patience.

“You lit the fire under Liora,” he went on, voice ragged but strong, “because she would not bow to you. And you’ll do the same to Sable, the second she says no.”

The name tore through me again. Not with shame—no. With hunger.

I leaned close, my mouth by his ear. “She will not say no.”

His laugh was jagged. Ugly. “Then she’ll burn you with her.”

Enough.

I raised my hand. The Flame Bearers moved in, hauling him to his feet, binding him to the post. Arms spread wide, head lifted like a false martyr.

I took the torch myself. Always myself.

“The fire cleanses,” I told them. “The fire corrects.”

I pressed the flame to the dry kindling at his feet. It caught fast, leaping hungrily up his legs. He gritted his teeth, jaw locked as the fire climbed higher. Skin blistered, hair caught, the stink of burning flesh curling into the air.

Someone in the crowd whimpered. A child. The sound was swallowed quick by a mother’s hand over a mouth. Good. Fear must be learned.

Tallis didn’t scream. Not even when the flames ate his chest. His silence was a defiance all its own, and that only made me hate him more.

I breathed deep of the smoke, of the sacrifice, until his body sagged against the ropes, blackened and curling. When the last flame guttered out, I turned back to my flock. Their faces were pale, eyes wide, fear raw and ripe in the air.

Perfect.