Chapter 41 Chapter Twelve

There was a light knock on the closed door. "Father Saryon?" "Time is up?" There are no windows in the small sanctuary.The harsh bright light of the new day may have come to the outside world, but it could never penetrate the indifferent darkness of the monastery. "Yes, Father." The voice outside the door whispered. Saryon raised his head slowly.He knelt all night on the stone floor of a private chapel in the holy mountain, seeking solace in prayer.Now his body is stiff, his knees are bruised, and he has long since lost feeling in his legs. How he wished his heart had lost all feeling too!

Saryon reached out, grasped the prayer fence in front of him, and struggled to his feet.A suppressed moan escaped from between his lips, and the restoration of normal blood circulation sent needle-like pain to his limbs.He tried to move his legs and feet, but found that he was too weak to move.He rested his tired head on his hands and blinked back his tears. "You have rejected all my requests, please give me the strength to walk." He prayed sadly. "At least I can't let him down on this point. I want to accompany him to the end." Holding the fence with both hands, Saryon clenched his teeth and tried to stay steady.He stood still for a while, gasping for breath, and finally he was sure he could move.

"Father Saryon?" came the voice again, with a slightly worried tone.There was a scratching sound on the door of the sanctuary. "Yes, here we come." Saryon shouted suddenly. "What are you in a hurry for? Can't wait to see the show?" He staggered over, forcing his sore muscles to work, his shoes dragging along the floor.The catalyst saint walked through the narrow room in a few steps, and then fell on the door, exhausted. Saryon wiped the cold sweat off his brows with shaking hands, and finally found the strength to break the magic lock that was put on the door last night.This spell is not difficult, and the catalyst saint can cast it by himself with only a small amount of life force in his body.But he didn't know if he had the power to untangle it.After hesitating for a while, the door opened and opened inwards silently.

A novice was looking at him palely.Her eyes widened in fear, and when she saw his pale face, she quickly bit her lip and lowered her gaze. "I—I worry about you, Father," she said tremblingly. "It's just that." She covered her eyes with her slender hands and said intermittently. "I don't want to see this kind of thing, but it has to be—" She broke off. "Sorry, sister." Saryon apologized wearily. "Forgive me. It's been... a long night." "Yes, Father." She strengthened a little, and raised her eyes to look directly at him. "I can understand. I asked Emin to give me the courage to go through this trial. He didn't let me down."

"How lucky you are." Saryon snorted coldly. The priest's sudden intensity startled the priestess, who looked at him with apprehension.Saryon sighed, and wanted to ask her forgiveness again, but he didn't say it.What did it matter whether she forgave him or not?It doesn't matter what other people's forgiveness is, except for that one... and he will never get that forgiveness, he is not entitled to it. "That...is that...the sword?" The eyes of the apprentice female monk were as bright and gentle as a rabbit when she was frightened.Thinking about it, Saryon turned his gaze to an indeterminate mass of darkness on the mahogany altar. With the light of a small ball of light held in her hand, she could hardly see anything.

"Yes, sister." Saryon replied simply. That's why a magic lock must be placed on the door, only one man is fit to wield this dark weapon. "This will be part of your penance, Father Saryon," Bishop Vanya declared. "Because you helped create this filthy tool belonging to the Ninth Tribe's demon artisans, and you will spend the rest of your life guarding it. Of course." The bishop added in a more relaxed voice. "Members of our order will ask to study it to learn more about its evil nature. You must help them in their quest and teach them all you know about the dark craft."

Head bowed in humility, Saryon accepted his servitude gratefully, reassuring himself that it would purify his soul and give him the peace he craved.But the peace promised to him did not come.He thought there would be, until last night, when he saw Joram's dark eyes, the young man's painful words: "I believed in you!" It was like writing on the priest's soul with flames, those words It will always burn in his heart, and he will never be able to get rid of that pain. It was this flame, he thought numbly, that had consumed his prayers to Emin, his prayers for mercy, for forgiveness of his crimes.Prayers drifted from his mouth like ashes, scattered in the wind, and his heart was like a blackened embers left in his chest.

From a window in the corridor the novice caught a glimpse of the fading starlight. "Father, we have to go." "Yes." Saryon turned and staggered towards the altar. The Dark Sword lay like a dead mass.The light held in the nun's hand was faintly reflected on the shiny mahogany wood of the delicate altar, leaving no spots of light on the black metal of the sword.Sorrow and grief weighed on him, and Saryon fumbled at the touch of the sword as he clumsily picked it up.He shoved it into the scabbard so clumsily that he nearly dropped it to the ground.He lowered his head, held the sword tightly in both hands, raised it towards the sky, and shouted the most sincere prayer in his life:

"Holy Emin, I no longer care about myself, I am lost. Please be with Joram! Help him find the light he desperately wants!" The only sound in the sanctuary was the soft sympathetic prayer of the young nun: "Amen." Saryon stepped out of the sept, clutching the heavy sword in his arms.