“The Circle of Heresy is a misnomer,” Eveline said suddenly.

  “What?” asked Zeke, still trudging along. “I thought you said you didn’t know anything.”

  “Well, now I do. You know how my memory works. Or doesn’t work, as it happens,” she said.

  “Yeah. I guess. So, what makes it a misnomer?” he asked.

  “It’s not heresy as you would consider it. Instead, it’s dedicated to punishing those who stray from the truth, spread malicious lies, and falsely lay claim to knowledge they do not possess,” she intoned. “It is a place of oppressive control, vindictiveness, and the rule of the mob. Any individual thought is punished.”

  “Sounds like a fun place,” Zeke sighed. “I guess that’s normal now, though. I should look forward to being ripped apart, then.”

  “Burned.”

  “What?”

  “You will be burned at the stake. That is the preferred punishment in the Circle of Heresy.”

  “Damnit,” Zeke spat. “And I suppose my fire immunity will do nothing against it?”

  “I would be shocked if it helped at all.”

  “Do you know anything else about it?” Zeke asked.

  Eveline gave the impression of shaking her head. She hadn’t manifested physically for quite some time, which worried Zeke. He wasn’t in the best shape in the world, but he wasn’t blind to how the descent through the circles of Hell had affected his lone companion. It was not unexpected, and the damage she had already suffered was one of the reasons he’d decided to descend alone.

  But he couldn’t leave Eveline behind. She was as much a part of him as his own mind.

  “Not quite. I can detach if I wish. I simply wouldn’t survive,” she pointed out with a harsh laugh. “Not that that would be much worse than being whittled away, one circle after another.”

  “That doesn’t make it better, Eveline. Don’t talk like that. You’re going to survive this,” he said.

  “You don’t have to tell me that. I have no intention of giving up,” Eveline assured him. “I will survive this, one way or another – if only to see you topple this system.”

  “I’m not going to topple anything,” he said.

  “You will. I’m certain of it.”

  Zeke definitely wasn’t so sure. It was one thing to talk about winning an eternal war and abolishing the Framework that funneled everyone’s efforts into conflict. But it was something else altogether to actually state that as a goal. What’s more, Zeke had no idea if he was even capable of such a feat. He hadn’t even finished his descent, much less broken into the Ethereal Realm where he would be forced to fight gods.

  “You will, Ezekiel. They will tremble in your presence and fall before your might. I can see it. I will ensure it,” she said.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I am fantastic, and I will be even better when we break free of Hell and begin our conquest of justice.”

  Zeke just shook his head as she muttered something about making them all pay. He had no idea how long he kept walking, but during that time, he continuously cycled divine energy through his body in a process that he hoped would further his goals of entirely inoculating himself against that corrosive force.

  It had worked so far, and he felt that he had no other choice in the matter. After all, without divine energy, he never could have survived the previous circles, and he suspected that that pattern would continue going forward.

  Besides, Zeke felt that there was more to be gained. Already, he could feel one of his skills – [Shifting Sands] – just on the other side. If one more portion of the cave broke loose, he would regain access. It wasn’t his most powerful ability, but having it was certainly better than it being locked away.

  Hopefully, by the time he needed the others, they would be freed as well.

  Such thoughts accompanied him as he trudged along the path. He could see nothing of his confines. He couldn’t even feel the ground. Yet, he could somehow walk. So, considering that taking one step after another was his only available action, that was what he did.

  Every now and again, Eveline made her presence known. At times, she was completely coherent, but at others, she devolved into venomous hatred of elves, Hell, and the Framework itself. She had latched onto the notion that Zeke was meant to destroy the entire system, and she wouldn’t be persuaded to drop it.

  For his part, Zeke harbored a little animosity of his own toward the Framework. Sure, he’d chosen his own path at every turn, but the Framework had pushed him into conflict with every step forward. Without its influence, would he have settled down with Abby? Or even Adara?

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  Maybe.

  Perhaps not.

  The problem was that he didn’t know one way or the other. He hadn’t authored his own path, and that sent a tremor of fury through Zeke’s mind.

  Gradually, the days – such as he could tell them apart – passed until, at last, he reached the end of the hall. If he let himself appreciate it fully, the door would have looked like it was suspended in perfect nothingness. Zeke knew there was something beneath his feet, but no matter how much he tried to feel it, there was nothing. The same was true about his other surroundings.

  Except the door which beckoned for him to open it.

  He complied, and suddenly, he found himself falling. Trying not to panic, Zeke threw his arms out in an effort to arrest his momentum. It didn’t work, and he slammed into the ground only a few moments later, and hard enough to dig a sizable crater in the soft earth.

  “A witch descends from above!” came a scream. “Seize him!”

  “The light beckons!”

  “The light purifies!”

  “The light absolves!”

  Zeke pushed himself to all fours, shaking his head in confusion. He could scarcely feel his own strength, even with divine energy flowing through him. Then, suddenly, someone grabbed his arm. He reacted without thought, yanking away and spinning around to deliver a devastating punch.

  The blow landed, but the effect was far different from what he could have imagined. Instead of being launched miles away, as his strength usually dictated, the victim of his attack merely staggered backward, then fell to his backside, dazed and with an out-of-place jaw.

  That’s when someone else seized his other arm. Zeke tried to yank free, the same as before, but another pair of hands latched onto his wrist. Then another. Before he knew what was going on, he had three people restraining him.

  In any other situation, tossing them aside would have been child’s play. But now, he seemed no stronger than a man of his stature would have been back on Earth. That was to say that his bulging muscles still counted for something, but there was no supernatural stats backing him up.

  Still, he struggled, utilizing his well-earned fighting prowess to pull free and knock a few others out. However, there were always more, and it wasn’t long before they managed to tie him up.

  Being carried over their shoulders gave Zeke an opportunity to assess his situation. The landscape looked like a dark and foreboding forest, though in the distance, he flickering firelight. Given the distance and the orientation, he figured that the fire must be absolutely enormous to cast so much light. Overhead, the sky was entirely dark but for a silvery moon that cast everything in an eerie glow.

  His captors were human and wore entirely black outfits. From what few glimpses he managed, they also seemed extremely thin, though he had difficulty judging.

  The trip through the forest was blessedly short, though when he caught sight of the destination, Zeke couldn’t help but blanch. It looked like a pyre, though that was only the effect of stylized architecture. Still, the exterior was like charred wood, and it even smelled of ash.

  The black-clad captors carried him inside.

  The smell of the interior was even worse than outside, and Zeke found it difficult to breathe among the ash and smoke that permeated the space. He writhed and kicked, attempting to escape, but his captors were both vigilant and capable. He made not progress.

  Then, they arrived at the center of the pyre-like pyramid.

  His captors tossed him to the ground, where he rolled across dark sand until he hit a blackened pole. Still bound, Zeke tried to worm away, but his efforts were useless, and a few of the captors leaped down and positioned him against the pole. Someone wrenched his arms up, and suddenly, Zeke was being lifted by a rope. The sound of cranking gears reached his ears, but he could see no machinery.

  That’s when he finally got a good, solid look at his captors.

  They had no eyes.

  And even more disturbingly, their mouths had been sewn shut.

  Somehow, though, they kept screaming.

  “Purify him!”

  “Bathe him in the light!”

  “Expose his transgressions!”

  On and on they went as Zeke hung there, waiting on something to happen. And then, suddenly, it did. A beam of scalding light erupted from the ceiling, stripping everything from him. Suddenly, he had no hair. No clothes. No identifying features. He was just a formless shape, thoughtless and without identity.

  Then, the visions came.

  “Murderer.”

  “Selfish.”

  “Liar.”

  “Honorless.”

  “Traitor.”

  On and on they went, accompanied by the intonations of his captors. He saw them all. Hundreds of murders. Thousands. Millions, even. He saw himself turning away from his friends who needed him. He saw himself lying, both to himself and his companions. He’d run away from them, claiming that it was for their protection.

  That had never been the case.

  He simply didn’t want to lose them. It was easier to keep them in a box, safe and sound, rather than risk them. Not for their sake. But for his own. He couldn’t watch them die. He could not lose them.

  He refused.

  And so, he had selfishly lied.

  It went on for longer than Zeke could have imagined, and he was forced to come to terms with his own shortcomings. With his sins. His transgressions.

  Suddenly, it stopped, and Zeke thought it was over. He hung there, limp and confused, for a long moment before he felt a tendrils of divine energy rolling through him. It sparked his memory as well as his awareness.

  Then, he felt it.

  Fire tickling his toes, then rising up his legs. He looked down to see that someone had lit the pyre. What he had mistook as sand was nothing of the earth. Instead, it had been the ashes of those who’d come before him.

  He screamed in agony as his body succumbed to the flames. Bit by bit, his flesh blistered and was scorched from his bones.

  But he persisted.

  He endured.

  [Hand of Divinity] coursed through him, though it could do nothing to combat the flames. Instead, it kept him alive. It maintained his awareness.

  Regrettably so.

  The fires persisted for longer than Zeke could track. Yet, he lived through it. Only as a charred skeleton, but so long as a single cell remained, he would persist. He would survive.

  Only when the fires died out did Zeke hear the whispers. At first, he thought they were meaningless gibberish. But when he focused on the ring of captors, twisting and turning in place, he realized that they had never stopped their accusations. Some were real – like the label of murderer – but others were entirely fabricated.

  It didn’t matter.

  They believed he was guilty, and so, in this twisted trial, that was precisely what he was.

  But then, he began to wonder if they were right. He gave credence to each accusation He felt their sting all the way to the core of his soul, branding him with the resultant guilt.

  Yet, he endured. Even when his pleas for forgiveness filled the air, he refused to give in.

  So it went.

  So a part of him died. It was not the first piece of Zeke that Hell had sheared away, and it certainly would not be the last.