In the Melted Palace at Holy Elpeck's heart, Mordwell Verune, leader of the Last Church sat in the Lassedite's throne, clad in many colors. The cassock and pellegrina of the sacred Hummingbird Robe draped over Verune's transfigured body, covering him in its ruby and cyan iridescence. The cope's gold mantled him like sunlight, flanking the long lower half of his serpentine body where it sprawled on the audience hall's reticulated marbled floor, while his neck and torso stuck up like a marsh reed as he leaned forward from his throne. Dawn had yet to come; darkness still bled in from the clerestory windows near the roof, and trickled down the pilasters carved into the walls' ancient stone. But the dark was of no great concern to Verune, nor to his visitor, because the Lassedite brought a kind of light of his own. It shone in his all-embracing eyes, as gold as the Sun, and in the color of his spreading scales, like dead daylight, sickly, and caustic in their yellows.
There was a thorn in Verune's mind, and didn't know its cause. He felt restless, and that agitated him, because it made no sense. The Hallowed Beast had graced him with Its power, remaking his and others' body into divine beasts, meant to shepherd the faithful to Paradise. He could hear the voices of the earth and the questions on the wind. He knew the Godhead was with him and within him, glorious power, waiting to burst free.
So why was he ill at ease? Why was there a throbbing itch pecking away at his skull? Why did he feel that something vital was missing?
"Your Holiness?" his visitor asked.
"What is it?" Verune asked, turning to the changeling—one of his many followers—that had come to speak with him. According to the guards at the doors, the fellow had just returned from a battle elsewhere in the city.
The changeling knelt in the middle of the room, clad in tattered robes, with his tail curled behind him and his head and neck bent low. His face had begun to stick out into a snout, making his words both rough and resonant.
"I have a report from the battle."
"Get on with it then," Verune said. "Do they pose a threat to us?"
The Lassedite was aware of the heightened military presence within the city. Some of his fliers had reported a sizable brigade had taken up residence near the hospital along with a decent number of civilians. Following the advice of the Innocent's paramilitary leaders, Verune had ordered a mission of reconnaissance and light engagement, to assess the situation.
"Yes," the scout replied, "and in more ways than one."
"Oh?"
Verune wondered if his unease had been a presentiment of this bad news.
"They are Heretics, your Holiness. They have divine beasts on their side—powerful ones—and they allow the infected to fester there. They must still have hope in this world, rather than in the world to come."
Heretics?
Verune tightened his grip on the throne's armrest, crushing it to splinters—but not anger. He was angry, yes, but that feeling was totally overwhelmed by an extremely pleasurable conviction that he'd finally found the source of his mysterious agitation.
"Heretics, you say?" Verune asked, with rapt attention.
"Yes, your Holiness," the changeling said. "And so much more." He raised his head.
The changeling's face an erumpent twist of flesh that stuck out from his skull, gnarled and knotted. It wouldn't be long before the growth blossomed into a snout. Verune should have been repulsed by the sight of, but he was not. The Lassedite saw only beauty and majesty. He saw marble scales and ivory teeth, and a mane of pale and holy fire.
"I fought them myself," the changeling said. "I shared your gospel with them. I told them the Last Church's good news but… they refused to listen."
Verune sighed, spewing out spores—though he saw them as gleaming embers.
"It is to be expected. It is rare for power to bring wisdom. It saddens me that some of our fellow divine beasts have hardened their hearts to the Angel's love."
"Your Holiness, it's far worse than that," the changeling said. "By the Angel, they have bombs one the way."
"Bombs?" Verune said.
"Nuclear bombs, Your Holiness. They—"
"—You don't need to strain yourself," Verune said.
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With a flick of the tip of his tail, Verune slithered off the Lassedite's throne and approached the changeling, belly scutes rustling against the marble as he snaked across the floor. Leaning over the changeling, Verune placed his three-clawed hand on the scout's chest. Tickling sensations writhed on the undersides of Verune's fingers as his flesh broke through the changeling's ruined shirt and dug into and intermingled with his follower's body.
Verune closed his eyes and let his mind envelop the changeling's. He saw what the scout had seen, experiencing his perceptions as his own. Immediately, the Lassedite was flooded with his follower's fear. It was of startling intensity.
What could make a divine beast tremble with fear like that?
And then the scout showed him.
Verune saw a city from high above, long before the coming of the Last Days. Suddenly, there was a bright flash in the city's core. Above the flash, the sky lit aflame. An awesome fire cloud rose up from the city, sending out waves of force that flattened everything in their path.
What is this? Verune asked.
A nuclear bomb, your Holiness, the scout thought. The military is planning on dropping these bombs on the city. I learned from one of the souls I acquired during the battle.
Verune was aghast. They would do that to the Holy City?
They're sinners, your Holiness. They don't understand what they're doing.
Then we will stop them. We will turn their bombs back on them. They will tremble before the Hallowed Beast's might.
Verune sifted through the memories.
Is there anything else you have to share with me? he asked.
Yes, the scout thought. He followed his reply with images and emotions.
There was a beast with silver eyes. None of us knew what it meant.
And there it was: a Norm, fully changed. A divine serpent, scaled in copper and garnet, with shining horns and fangs of steel. But its eyes…
Its eyes were silver, like the Moon, with slit pupils as black as night. The sight drew Verune's attention, as if enchanted. There was something there, in its depths. Something vast and powerful. As he focused on it, he felt his restlessness intensify.
All of a sudden, the presence within Verune stirred. It twined around the scout's memories, flowing out through the Lassedite's flesh-embedded claws and into the scout's body. The image of the silver eye swelled, filling Verune's mind like an unvoiced scream. The sheer intensity of the presence shocked Verune enough to shock him back into his own body.
"Y-Your Holiness," the scout asked. "Are you alright?"
Blinking and shaking his head, Verune ripped his three-fingered hand off the changeling's chest. Stings of pain swept across Verune's fingers and palms where the link was forcibly broken.
Verune flicked the tip of his tail, nervous and uneasy.
The changeling looked up at him, lost and adrift. "We don't know what it is. We don't know what it means."
Verune raised his head and looked up at the ceiling, imagining he could see the Moon, with its light like those piercing silver eyes.
"It's as clear as moonlight, my son," Verune said. He began to understand why he'd been feeling agitated. "The Norm is a sign from the Godhead." He turned to face the changeling. "We must do as it did. This is a call to arms."
Verune reached out and placed his hand back on the scout's chest and reinitiated their link.
A couple brothers and I were en route to the hospital when there was a sudden burst of chaos, the scout thought. It led us to the hospital, which was already caught up in the middle of a battle.
Verune watched the battle play out. He saw the hospital's misguided Norms clash with his faithful followers. But as troubling as it was to see in-fighting among divine beasts, it was their combination with the human military that truly disturbed him.
Fabulous beams of lights shrieked out from guns in the hands of soldiers clad in white. They fought with beams of fire and sprays of modern bullets. The military's flying machines wreaked havoc, even as they exploded and crashed into the surrounding buildings.
The military opposes us, the scout thought. They will stand against us.
We will stop them, Verune replied. We will teach our fellow beasts the error of their ways. It is inevitable, and we cannot fail, for the Angel is with us.
But what about the sorcerer? the scout asked.
The word shot a bolt of ecstasy into the Lassedite's head, making him rear his body up and pull away from the scout, breaking the link for a second time.
Verune clutched his head in his claws.
What was that? He thought.
"Your Holiness?"
Verune let go and shook his head.
Sorcerer. Sorcerer. The word hung in his thoughts like an echo.
"Tell me everything about this sorcerer," Verune said. "Damn the visions; use your words. There is something here, I know it."
Nodding, the scout began to speak. "I think it was the sorcerer who called us to the hospital. I don't know how."
As the changeling spoke, images began to form in Verune's field of vision. The Lassedite watched as a scarcely changed Norm extended his will across the hordes of demons in the old hospital's courtyard.
"It was a heretic Norm, your Holiness. I don't know how he did it, but… he could control the zombies."
And so it was: the man made the zombies move at his beck and call. It was a frightening display of power, and it filled Verune with equal parts anxiety and envy.
"They were his puppets," the scout said. "He commanded them like a general to give his allies time to rally while also leading a posse of heretical Norms against us."
Just looking at the man, Verune knew that he was the source of his troubled mood.
"Whoever he is… he meddles with powers he cannot comprehend," Verune said. "I knew the Angel was trying to tell me something."
With but a thought, Verune conjured an image of the sorcerer, clad in a garish yellow full-body suit with a gaudy spotted bow-tie around his neck.
Me.
"This sorcerer must be stopped," the Lassedite said. "We must destroy him. Hopefully that will break his spell and make the heretics under him see the light."
"And if it doesn't?" the scout asked.
"We will show them the true glory of God."
Verune opened the Moon Door with a wave of his hand and slithered out onto the balcony overlooking the Great Nave, ready to share the news with the faithful.
A momentous battle was about to begin.
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