Chapter Text
Hratsek had long forgotten what grass felt like.
He'd forgotten what anything but the cold stones of his cell and the harsh sands of the arena felt like.
He felt himself clawing at the grass, digits curling against the uneven ground of the cliff - though he barely registered it. He could barely register anything under the sheer weight of everything. Of the outside. He'd convinced himself there was no outside. That the world started and ended at the Church. But now, standing atop what he felt had to be the highest point on the planet, gaze turned towards the rising sun, he was frozen by the magnitude of his error, awe-struck by how very wrong he had been as the sun kissed the horizon goodbye.
His muscles ached and his lungs felt as though they were on fire and his paws were blistered and his legs wanted to give out underneath him and he had never felt more joyous in his entire life.
He felt as though the light of his freedom would strike him down and he swore that if it did then there would have never been a being so monumentally thankful in death.
He wanted to stay there forever. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out just to see more. He wanted to run back to Divinity and return to the simplicity of being a slave. He wanted everything the world could offer him. He had a choice now.
But he knew that if he didn't keep moving, Divinity would catch up to him and his - he wasn't sure what to refer to the boy as. A ward? A prisoner? A guide? Either way, if they did not continue to move, Divinity would capture them and rip away that choice from him just as they ripped away everything else.
They had to keep moving. He knew exactly where they had to go.
Just beyond the horizon, where the sun awoke from it's slumber every morning. To the end of the world. To the furthest corner, where Divinity would never reach him. He didn't care what that entailed or how he'd get there or what might be waiting there for him.
He'd reach the end of the world, curl up somewhere warm and finally rest without fear, without humiliation, in peace.
Yes. To where the sun wakes.
He drew in a long, shaky breath of cold morning air, soothing his burning lungs, and exhaled with tears pricking his eyes.
He barely acknowledged the boy standing beside him, the boy who he had rescued from Divinity in his escape.
Carnius. Yes, that’s what the humans called him.
—
Carnius didn't even have the sense to scream. To fight back, to do something - anything. Anything besides float somewhere outside his own body, numb, hollow, broken—everything kept replaying in his mind and he couldn't make it stop.
Please make it stop.
He lost control. One second everything was fine, and then it wasn't and Fabien's blood was spraying out across the cell like rain and it got everywhere and there was too much of it—on his clothes, his face, and everything had smelled like copper and betrayal and death. There wasn't any noise besides the shocked gurgling noise seeping out of Fabien's throat as he had aspirated on his own blood.
Wide amber eyes staring up into nothing—
Carnius remembered the Executioner staggering, staring down at Fabien in what almost looked like disbelief, mouthing something that almost looked like the name of its fallen master. And then those horrible hellfire eyes were on Carnius. The Executioner grabbed him before he could do anything and fled with a speed that Carnius had thought the weary old tomcat no longer capable of.
He'd shrieked once or twice, clawed at the demon's back until he drew blood, but it didn't even notice. Carnius's body no longer belonged to him and it wouldn't turn to savagery the way he wanted it to. Any Light he tried to summon fizzled out, rendered from him like fat from cooking beef.
His body betrayed him just as his mind had.
When his thoughts finally returned to him, the boy found himself staring up at an early morning sky. His breath turned to white clouds above him, and he watched them fade into pink sunlight before he began to hyperventilate.
Slowly, he rolled over onto his hands and knees, waiting for a party of warrior monks to burst from the woodland and save him from this living hell. Nothing happened.
He vomited.
—
He swallowed dryly before tearing his eyes from the sunrise to look down at the boy heaving all over the grass. He wasn't sure if the boy was vomiting due to the speed at which they had been moving, due to his ill positioning on his shoulder as they had made their escape, or because of the Master's death.
Whilst he had not stayed long enough to watch the man, the monster, draw his final breath, he knew that the slash would have drained the man of his blood before anybody could even notice that he had been attacked - especially with the distraction of Hratsek’s escape. Most of the nuns had flocked to their dorms, squawking and fleeing like hens to a coop, and most of the monks had been sent to catch him the moment he had been spotted sprinting through the halls of the Church.
Fabien had died. His leash no longer had a hand to tug on it, nor to steady it.
He waited until the boy had thoroughly emptied his stomach before he dipped down to grasp the back of his vest and hoist him to his feet. Then he released him only long enough to firmly seize his shoulder and start walking again, trying to find a safer way to descend the cliff than just grabbing the boy and jumping to one of the trees at the bottom. Usually he could risk a broken leg, he’d always have a fearful nun to mend the injury before it grew too unbearable and he’d always have food and shelter and relative safety so long as the injury weren’t sustained on an arena night, but now he was not only on his own but he was on the run.
His thoughts were interrupted by the boy releasing a wail that sent ravens spiraling up from the nearest tree, croaking down at him in dismay as they scurried into the sky. Hratsek jumped but did not release the boy’s shoulder. Then, as quickly as the scream had escaped the boy’s throat, he fell silent.
He gave a grunt and began to lumber onwards, pulling Carnius alone. The boy stumbled and began to tremble under the Executioner’s hand, his body slowly but surely beginning to heed his command once more.
"You fucking—monster, you wretched—" his sob was cut off by his own struggling. Hratsek turned his ember-coloured eyes to the boy and stared down at him in silence, what was left of his tail flicking at it’s tip. "Let me go, I want to go home, I want to go home—Fabien! Fabien! Fabien!"
The guilt bubbling in the Executioner’s chest didn’t taint his expression with emotion. Then he turned his gaze west, towards Divinity.
Fabien.
"I’ll kill you! you hear me?! I'll kill you! If it's the last thing I do, I'll drain your veins and paint myself with your blood! I’ll drag your thrice-damned pelt back as a gift to the Bishop! I swear this upon the Exalted Mother, I’ll send you back to hell so mangled that the Anti-Saint won’t even recognise you as one of his brood, tomcat!”
Hratsek understood only a few words, and even then his understanding was vague at best. He knew that the boy was threatening him and he recognised the word "tomcat" as an insult by the way it was always spat at him with a sneer and a glare.
He wasn't sure what the boy thought he could do, he had already proven himself to be a poor handler and he was nowhere near experienced enough to get one over on him to punish him. He didn't want the boy to try either, just because he didn't want to have to hurt him, but he also wasn't sure how to communicate that to him.
So instead, he grunted.
—
Carnius stopped, chest heaving. He's seven again, the smallest out of all the boys and girls his age, and Octavian is smashing his face into a tree root over and over again until the force knocks out three of his teeth.
"Say it! Say you're weak!"
With a howl, he let the Light come back to him at last and he launched himself at the demon with a half-formed lightstaff burning in his hands.
Of course the demon had been ready - it had been ready it’s entire life, ever since the day it was ripped from the bowels of hell itself, demons are born killers - and so the demon turned on his heel and let go of Carnius’s shoulder, extending a leg to trip the boy as he passed.
His tail flicked at its tip but his expression remained plain as the boy collided with the ground.
Carnius's face smashed into the rocky ground hard enough to turn his vision gray. He laid there, winded, before he tried to lift himself up. Pain exploded out into his whole head, and he knew he'd broken his nose. Again.
And now Fabien wasn't here to bring him to a healer and tell him a funny story from his childhood to make Carnius laugh through the blood. Flavia wasn't here to pinch his ears until he chased her around the courtyard, Horatio yelling that they were gonna get in trouble with Sister Plinary again. Calix wasn't here to grin at Carnius and make his heart flip in his chest until Carnius chased him around as well.
He was alone.
A pathetic whimper wheezed out of his throat. He was alone and it was all his fault.
I'm not weak.
As Carnius tried to pick himself up suddenly felt the weight lifted from him as the Executioner, Vox Mons as the handling team called him, once again grabbed his vest and pulled him to his feet. Squirming and writhing, the boy struggled feebly against the all-encompassing hands of the Executioner as it stripped the sash from its baggy harem pants and coiled it around his wrists, binding them together in front of him.
Once the former handler's wrists were bound, it turned the boy around to look at it in those hellfire eyes and quickly but expertly snapped his nose back into place before releasing him and taking a step back.
The scream that came out of Carnius probably sent every mountain lion within that stretch of wilderness fleeing for their lairs. The only comfort for the boy was that if there were any search parties nearby, there was a good chance they heard him. He wanted to swipe at the demon but the binds on his wrists forbade it.
Weak.
Yet again, it grabbed the boy's shoulder and again started to walk, guiding Carnius down a steep but manageable slope towards the bottom of the cliff.
"I'll make you pay," Carnius sobbed, but he stumbled along lest he fall down the cliff and break his neck. "Tonight! I swear it! And Fabien is going to skin you alive when he finds us, and he's going to bring me home, and we're going to be okay and you'll be in hell where you belong!"
Then, something occurred to him. "Where are you even taking me?"
The tomcat remained silent. Carnius’ mind began to race.
Hell. It’s taking me to hell. I failed Divinity and now it’s dragging me down to meet with the Anti-Saint himself.
Then it answered, raising a clawed finger to a cluster of mountains upon which the sun seemed to perch.
---
"Oh. Great. We're gonna die. Mountains are cold, idiot! They have snow!" Carnius yelled.
Idiot. He understood that and clipped the boy around the ear - something he'd been wanting to do for a long long time.
Cold. He understood that word too. The boy is cold. He grunted and looked around, trying not to get distracted by the forest around him and all it had to offer, pushing through the temptation to just sit down and drink it all in, before letting go of the boy to wander off to the foot of one of the many trees encircling them. He reached up to rip a branch from it and crouched down to peel the bark from it, then a few strips of wood using his claws, keeping a close eye on Carnius. He tore off a piece of his pant leg and tied it around the stick before laying the strips of wood over the cloth, trying to replicate the torches of Divinity and how they were lit. Then, he picked up two random rocks from the ground and started flicking them together.
This would easily create a fire, he almost had it, but neither of the rocks were flint and so it failed.
"Are you trying to make fire?" Carnius stared in disbelief at the demon. "Oh, Saint, you must have hit your head on a branch. You wouldn't know flint from your own shit. Just... you know what? Maybe..." An idea occurred to him.
Cautiously, Carnius closed the distance between himself and the crouching Executioner, reaching out his bound hands to swiftly swipe the make-shift torch from his hands - he tried not to think of how easily those hands could tear a man’s body asunder. He tried not to think of Fabien.
Heating up his hands with magic, he grasped the strips of fabric tied to the stick and held it until it began to smolder. Determined, he held it up and swung it about, sparks flinging from it’s flame. He grinned.
Hratsek stared into the flames. It was like light magic but wild. It waltzed about before his eyes, spitting up bright orange leaves and casting them to the wind, smoke billowing from the top of its flame like the thick black hair of a dancer he’d long forgotten the name of.
It took a moment before Hratsek realized what the boy was doing. He was trying to signal to the other Divines.
His first instinct was to swipe away the flame. To beat it against the ground and destroy it for fear of it giving away their location. However, its glow mesmerized him and the boy said that he was cold, did he not? He wouldn’t deprive him of warmth. He would not be like Divinity.
Instead, he tugged the torch from Carnius’ grip and shoved him forwards, ushering him eastward and keeping the boy under the glow of the torch.
—
It was dusk when the demon allowed them some respite. They had made it to the foot of the mountains and had stopped at a narrow and shallow river.
Vox Mons collapsed to its knees and allowed itself to fall into the river, hands sinking into the water and landing on the smooth stones below as it plunged its face into the water to drink.
When it pulled his head out it was cackling, lipless mouth curved in a wicked grin as it belted it’s joy to the on-coming night. It had given small cackling fits throughout the day, but nothing this loud. It delighted in splashing its clawed hands in the water as if it'd never felt it before.
Meanwhile, Carnius's terror had only grown throughout the day, and then, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, it had morphed into borderline hysteria. Once or twice he was certain he'd heard dogs off in the distance, but he dared not scream for them for fear of the demon slitting his throat like it had Fabien.
Fabien. He had to be okay. One of the guards probably found him not a minute after the demon had whisked Carnius away into the unknown and screamed for a healer. His mentor was safe in the infirmary—in pain and probably forbidden from speaking until the nuns were sure they'd closed his jugular properly—but still safe. Tomorrow he'd be up and leading a party of his own to find Carnius and not even the Anti-Saint himself could stop him.
It was only then Carnius realized two very important details: one, he was going to face the most horrible punishment one could face once he was back at the Church. He'd only gotten the iron buckle of a belt once, a punishment which often involved Sister Plinary heating it until it was red-hot, but the memory still came to haunt him every now and again. The scars on his back were reminders enough.
Two: the sun was going down and he was alone with a demon.
Ice flooded Carnius's veins until he was frozen in place.
He knew demons coveted the purity of women and would gladly seize some of that purity for themselves at any opportunity—that's why his and Fabien's job was so important, why no nuns were ever allowed by themselves in the Keep or even near the demon at all without close supervision and extra guards nearby.
But there were no women nearby.
Once again, Carnius began to hyperventilate. He knew that the most courageous thing to do would be to take his own life with his lightstaff before the inevitable happened, but he couldn't move. This demon - this tomcat - was just playing with him. It was only a matter of time, he knew it. It was only a matter of time before-
Splash!
The boy was soaked. The demon was smirking at him.
The bastard had flung water at him.
Then it had the audacity to point at the river in a wordless order for him to drink.
Carnius knew that drinking unboiled water would make him sick, and that drinking a lot of water in general could make anybody vomit after a long day of moving about—but perhaps that was a good plan. The second Vox Mons tried to touch him, Carnius was going to puke all over the demon, and then piss himself while he was at it.
He knelt beside the stream, keeping the demon in the corner of his eye, and quickly began swallowing down as much water as he could. It was so cold it made his head hurt.
Be brave, he told himself. The Saint always rewards her brave sons and daughters.
Strangely, once the boy began to drink, the demon seemed to lose interest in him and instead stood up to lumber back towards the clearing. It began to gather twigs from the surrounding forest, using the flame from the torch to light them a campfire - the torch that he had been keeping alive with twigs and strips of his own pant legs. Carnius wondered where the demon had learned to make a campfire or how to keep a fire from dying - it certainly couldn’t have been hell, where a lightless moon and ice cold ocean waters ruled and what little land was dotted about the endless water was barren and without warmth - but didn’t bother to ask the mute beast. The only answer he would receive was a grunt or a growl anyways.
Vox Mons waited for the boy to finish drinking before he began to set up a Campfire for them. The night was cold even for him, and so he assumed the boy must be cold as well. He used the flame from their torch to light it - a torch he had been keeling alive with strips of his own pant legs.
Once they had a fire, it sat down and stared into the flames.
Carnius wondered for a moment if it saw something in the flames that he couldn’t but he was quick to brush that thought aside.
The novice Monk huddled down as far away from the demon as he could get without straying from the warmth of the fire. Fire was good—the purifying force that cleansed the wilderness of the old and made way for the new, the light that helped humanity see through the dark in the Dawning Age, the symbol of magic. Fire was strength and safety, and Carnius clung to it like it was the only thing keeping him sane.
He didn't dare lower his guard. Not for a second. He needed to be ready.
"I'll kill you if you touch me. Remember that," he called over, voice thin and shaking.
The demon’s gaze lifted from the fire and practically pinned Carnius to where he was sat. Then, after that brief acknowledgement, it turned back to the fire and it challenged Carnius in the only way the boy was not prepared for.
“Sorry, Carnius.”
It spoke.