Sophie drew in the heavy scent of incense hanging in the enclosed temple vestibule. She watched as morning light streamed through stained gss, nding on the bricks of the newly built altar at the room’s center.

  This pce had been erected only six months ago—the time it took the Sons of Singurity to raise these walls, which the Resistance had dubbed the Burning House just st night.

  In the Burning House, the altar held no statues, images, or chalices. At its center stood a mounting bracket where, for the ritual, the Singurity Crystal was pced.

  Fist-sized, the crystal pulsed with a pale blue glow, casting an aura of deceptive calm.

  Kneeling in the crowd beside Lucien and the rest of the Resistance, Sophie watched Mat, cd in ceremonial robes, step forward. With reverent care, he seized the Singurity Crystal in his bare hands.

  “We gather today to witness something magnificent,” Mat intoned, and the murmurs among the crowd fell silent. “The one who has committed many sins against our city will today be cleansed.”

  Mat took a few steps aside, revealing the kneeling figure behind him. His mouth was gagged—otherwise he would have cried out long ago. His wrists were strapped to stocks that forced his hands wide open, palms facing skyward.

  Ready to receive the Crystal.

  A single tear traced down Idra’s cheek, yet she watched the spectacle Mat had crafted with wide, unblinking eyes. She stared at her brother bound in the stocks, forced to confront his sins. Her heart ached to fight, but reason demanded restraint. She could do nothing—the ritual had begun too soon. The Resistance had come to rescue their comrade but hadn’t anticipated how swiftly events would unfold. There was no time to improvise. All they could do now was watch. Only one thought offered Idra soce:

  He will not die. He will live on.

  Mat stood before the assembled throng, his voice low yet resonant within the stone walls of the Burning House. Fanatic fire burned in his eyes; rapture etched across his face.

  “We will bear witness to an act of purification,” he decred, his words slicing through the stifling temple air like bdes. “Nash, son of Radon, will stand before his transgressions, and the Crystal’s fire will burn every stain from his soul.”

  A ripple of whispers and low murmurs swept through the crowd as tension thickened in the air. Sophie felt a chill run down her spine and the icy fist of fear clench her stomach.

  “The ritual,” Mat continued, raising his hands in a ceremonial gesture, “will grant Nash a better life after death—and will spare us all from the vile corruption that lurks in the shadows.”

  His words, heavy with dread and promise, hung in the air like a verdict. Sophie clenched her fists as anger and helplessness surged within her.

  With near–religious reverence, Mat lifted the Singurity Crystal and approached Nash. The stocks forced his wrists palm-up, his hands trembling in anticipation. At st, with exquisite precision, Mat pressed the pulsing artifact against Nash’s open palms.

  Tears brimmed in Nash’s eyes, shimmering in the crystal’s pale glow. His body convulsed, and muffled sobs escaped his gag. If he could have shouted, the walls of the Burning House would have cracked.

  Sophie’s heart pounded like a war drum as she watched, horrified yet sympathetic. Rage boiled inside her, but she forced herself to remain still.

  A single tear slid down Idra’s cheek, yet she stared at her brother bound in the stocks, torn between despair and resolve. He won’t die, she repeated like a mantra. He will survive.

  But doubt flickered in her eyes. Would the blue crystal’s ominous power consume him from within—as she feared—or cleanse him, as Mat promised?

  Nash’s sobs grew fainter until he slumped unconscious in the stocks. His limp form sagged in their arms. The Singurity Crystal, its glow dimming, slipped into a cushioned basket below the altar.

  Mat nodded in approval. Two Sons garbed in ceremonial robes freed Nash and carried him into an antechamber, away from the crowd’s view.

  Sophie, fists still clenched, watched with mounting fury. Mat stepped forward again, his voice brimming with fanatic zeal as it echoed through the Burning House.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he procimed, eyes shining with a strange light, “we share but one purpose: to purge this world of monsters—and thus purge sin itself.”

  A low murmur of agreement rippled through the assembly. Faces lifted toward Mat as though he were a prophet.

  Suddenly, the massive AberScan in the corner beeped sharply, drawing startled gnces—but then fell silent, and Mat pressed on undeterred.

  “From this day forth,” he decred, his words final as a sentence, “anyone who defies the will of the Crystal, which I alone represent, shall undergo the Ritual of Soul Purging.”

  Whispers of assent swelled around him. Devotees nodded eagerly at Mat, seeing salvation in his every decree.

  “We are compelled to this,” Mat continued, a trace of sorrow in his tone, “because those who fight the Sons of Singurity fight the righteousness and vision of a better world we build.”

  Though his words brimmed with terror, the crowd heard them as a promise—of cleansing and redemption.

  Mat smiled triumphantly and addressed the throng one st time. “Thanks to this purification, Nash will remain human until the end of his days,” he intoned like a hymn. “Aberron’s radiation will no longer warp his flesh. His soul shall be saved!”

  Cheers and accmations erupted. The faithful, eyes alight with devotion, believed every sylble.

  Sophie ground her teeth as she watched the celebration. She knew Mat lied—but how could she convince these blinded zealots of the truth?

  Raising his arms in benediction, Mat concluded the mass. “Rise, brothers and sisters,” he commanded. “The ritual is complete.”

  Obedient as sheep, the crowd stood. Idra brushed tears away, eyes moist. Sophie, voice ced with bitter irony, whispered: “Well, at least we know Nash won’t turn into a monster,” she muttered. “Now he’ll just become a fanatic.”

  Lucien gnced at Idra, his expression thoughtful. “Shall we go get him?” he asked softly.

  “I’ll retrieve him as family,” Idra replied, determination fshing in her eyes. “But not as a member of the Resistance.”

  “I understand,” Lucien said, his voice full of compassion.

  “You two go back to the hideout,” Idra told Sophie and Lucien, turning away. “Tell them the mission… failed.”

  “Failed?” Lucien asked, surprise coloring his voice.

  “Nash will betray us all,” Idra expined, bitterness cing her tone. “It’s only a matter of time before they discover our hideout.”

  Idra strode toward the altar, heading into the chamber where the Sons of Singurity had carried her unconscious brother. Sophie and Lucien slipped away from the crowd, weaving between the onlookers.

  Along the way, fragments of conversation drifted to their ears. Most people, eyes fixed on Mat like on a savior, nodded fervently at his words.

  “This ritual is our salvation,” one man said, his voice trembling with emotion. “It will protect us from becoming monsters.”

  “And after death awaits a better life,” a woman added, fanatic light shining in her eyes.

  A teenage boy standing next to his father spoke quietly, “Dad, can I undergo the ritual too?”

  The father said nothing. His wide-eyed gaze revealed fear and uncertainty. He wanted to say, “No, son—you can’t,” but cked the courage.