A Blossom of Flames

They were in the middle of breakfast when a sudden commotion at the entrance interrupted them. The conversations in the dining room fell silent as heads turned towards the door. The normal breakfast chatter died away and was replaced by an unnatural silence.

The large door opened with deliberate slowness, the old hinges groaning in protest. Six figures stepped through – four Emberwardens in their characteristic burgundy robes and armor, moving with military precision and flanking a tall, gaunt man. Their burgundy tunics bore the golden emblem of the Burning Tower, and each wore a mace on his hip.

"So there he is," Vyxara's voice slipped through Valentina's mind. "The Illumination appears with appropriate theatrics. They've always had a flair for the dramatic entrance."

The man in the middle, undoubtedly the Illuminator himself, was an intimidating presence. Tall and bony, with sunken cheeks and deep-set grey eyes that stared at them with the intensity of a bird of prey. His short-cropped white hair framed a face marked by old burn scars that stretched from his right jaw to his ear. His dark red robes, finer than those of his companions, were embroidered with golden threads around the edges, and a silver amulet in the shape of a Burning Tower hung around his neck.

"An Illuminator," a nearby student whispered with eyes wide open.

Decan Valemont entered behind the group, his face frozen into a mask of polite neutrality. But Valentina noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers clutched at the sides of his robes. The Decan, the highest authority of the university, looked like an insignificant servant in the presence of the Illuminator.

"This doesn't look good," muttered Crispin, shifting uneasily in his seat. "By all the flames of the Martyr... I hope... what if he-"

"Calm down," Innogen whispered, although her own hands were shaking under the table. "We didn't do anything."

"At least not all of you," Vyxara remarked dryly.

Valentina watched the Illuminator with careful neutrality. She tried hard not to show fear or defiance as she studied his every move. His eyes swept over the gathered students as if he tried to memorize each and every one of their faces. When his gaze fell on her, Valentina felt an eerie tingling sensation on her head, as if something foreign was trying to invade her thoughts – or did she just imagine that?

"He can't read your mind," Vyxara assured her, "but he's good at instilling and recognizing fear. Show none. Men like him smell weakness like bloodhounds."

Illuminator Eastwald strode down the center aisle, his movements measured and purposeful. The Emberwardens followed him in formation, their armored boots clinking on the stone floor. He stopped at the far end of the dining hall and turned slowly to look at the assembled students.

The silence was deafening. Even the usual rustling of clothes and dishes had stopped. Valentina almost thought she could hear the pounding of Crispin's heartbeat next to her – or was it her own?

"My dear children," Eastwald began. His voice was unexpectedly soft, almost melodic, but it carried effortlessly through the hall and immediately grabbed everyone's attention. "I have come to save you from evil."

Something about his voice made the hairs on the back of Valentina's neck stand up. She instinctively sensed what lurked behind that gentle surface. Her glance fell on Faustus Boarfend, her archrival, who was sitting a few tables away. For the first time since she had known him, his face was not one of arrogance, haughtiness or anger. Instead, he was pale, his eyes wide, his usual swagger replaced by a futile attempt to look as small as possible.

Decan Valemont stood a few paces behind the Illuminator and his face couldn't quite hide the conflict he must have felt right now. Valentina had read enough about the power dynamics between the Church and the University to know that the Decan was almost powerless in this fight. The Illumination acted with direct authority from the Scorchbishop of Vandercourt – and no one could stand against them lightly.

"See how he moves, so sure of his absolute power," Vyxara murmured. "He has dedicated his entire life to hunting demons, and yet he has never seen one. Isn't that ironic? Here he is, just a few feet away from a real demon, and he has no idea."

"Shut up," Valentina thought desperately. "What if he has a way of tracking you?"

"Oh, I doubt that," Vyxara replied, but fell silent for the time being.

The students sat motionless, like rabbits in front of a snake. Some seemed to want to become invisible through sheer force of will and others stared with fear or fascination, sometimes both. Still others, especially those from devoutly religious families, actually looked relieved – as if the Illuminator's arrival fulfilled a long-awaited promise.

The Illuminator clicked his tongue loudly. "It seems I've arrived just in time," he said with a soft voice, almost sighing.

Eastwald began to pace up and down between the rows of tables, his movements measured and deliberate, every step echoing in the silent hall. His hands were clasped behind his back as he surveyed the students.

"I have been sent here," he continued, his voice effortlessly filling the entire room, "because the Church of the Martyr is deeply concerned about the moral decay that threatens to corrupt this venerable institution."

A murmur went through the hall. Some students exchanged nervous glances, others stared doggedly at their plates.

"Oh, you think I'm exaggerating?" Eastwald smiled thinly. "The fact is, Bridgewater University has been under surveillance for a long time. The reports we've received are... disturbing, to say the least."

He paused in front of a table of first-year students who seemed to shrink under his gaze. A petite girl with freckles tried to hide behind her taller neighbor.

"Intellectual arrogance," he lectured, "is already the beginning of corruption. When a scholar begins to believe he is above faith, above the Martyr, then the soul is already on the road to corruption." His voice grew louder. "And here, in these halls, I see the signs of this dangerous arrogance everywhere!"

Eastwald continued his walk, his red robe like a pool of blood among them. "The libraries of this university are filled with texts that contain dangerous knowledge. Knowledge that can corrode the human mind and undermine faith in the Martyr. And yet you are encouraged to study these texts, to explore them – without the spiritual guidance that would protect your souls from corruption."

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Professor Emberfell, who was sitting at the side of the room, visibly flinched. Her face betrayed her indignation, but she remained silent, not daring to object.

"But intellectual arrogance is only the beginning," Eastwald continued, his voice now a dramatic whisper but because it was so quiet, everyone could hear him, nonetheless. "The real corruption lies in the moral degeneracy that thrives here."

As if by accident, he stopped directly in front of a group of third-year students known for their exuberant carousal. One of them, Marco Fillthorn, froze with his cup halfway to his mouth.

"Fornication!" Eastwald's voice whipped through the room. "Perversity! Self-defilement!" With each word, his voice grew louder until it rolled through the hall like thunder. "These heinous sins of the flesh are tolerated here, even encouraged!"

Valentina felt Innogen freeze next to her. Under the table, her friend grabbed her hand and squeezed it so tightly that it hurt.

"Isn't it strange," Eastwald said, suddenly calm again, almost thoughtful, "that so many young women live here without decent supervision? That so many young men and women… study… together without the protective boundaries of decorum? I have heard that some even exchange letters – disgraceful, lewd letters."

A student at the next table sobbed quietly, burying her face in her hands. Her friend put an arm around her and gave the Illuminator an angry look.

"And then," Eastwald continued, "there are even darker rumors. Rumors of forbidden research. About Essence manipulations that go beyond what the Church deems acceptable." At these words, he looked piercingly at Professor Veilford, who shrank down on his bench.

"I have been told that certain... incidents have occurred. Disturbances in the Essence flows. Unusual patterns that could indicate demonic interference… if not incursion."

Faustus Boarfend winced so violently that he almost knocked over his cup. His face had gone ashen.

"The tyrants of hell are always looking for a way to penetrate our world," Eastwald said and his voice had taken on an almost hypnotic rhythm. "They prey on the weak, the arrogant, the lustful. They offer knowledge, power, pleasure – and demand only a little something in return. Your soul."

"His rhetoric is really impressive ," Vyxara murmured.

"Please be quiet, Vyxara," Valentina thought desperately. She could feel her heart racing and tried to control her breathing so as not to show any signs of stress.

Eastwald had now reached the other side of the hall and turned to survey the entire dining room again, a shadow now falling over him, giving his gaunt face an even more sinister appearance.

"I'm not here to condemn," he said, although his whole talk had been nothing but that. "I'm here to save. To bring back the lost. To heal the corrupted – if possible. And if not..." He left the sentence unfinished, but the implication was clear.

Valentina watched various emotions flitting across the faces of her fellow students. In some she saw open fear, in others defiant rejection. Some students nodded in agreement, out of conviction for some and out of a desperate desire to be seen as pious by others.

She turned her gaze to Faustus Boarfend, who was sweating profusely. Did he still have the Eye of Deceit in his room? Or the bottles of corrupted Essence? Was her little accident when she tried to handle the corrupt Essence in his room last year the reason, the Illumination had become suspicious?

"In order to accomplish this sacred work," Eastwald announced, "certain measures will come into effect immediately."

He nodded to one of the Emberwardens, who stepped forward and opened a scroll of parchment he had taken from his belt.

"By order of His Serene Highness, the Scorchbishop of Vandercourt, and by the authority of the Illumination," the Emberwarden began in a formal voice, "the following is proclaimed:

First, all students and faculty undergo questioning to determine their purity of faith and moral integrity.

Second, the premises of all students and faculty may be searched on basis of suspicion at any time to remove prohibited materials, immoral literature or other forbidden items.

Thirdly, access to the library will be restricted and monitored. Certain texts will be removed from circulation and will only be accessible with the express permission of Illuminator Eastwald himself.

Fourthly, all entrances and exits to the university are guarded by Emberwardens. Everyone passing through will be searched. No one is allowed to bring in or remove materials without inspection."

The visible unrest in the hall grew with every point. Protests were quietly murmured, but no one dared to object out loud.

"The questionings," the Emberwarden continued, "will begin immediately. Illuminator Eastwald will personally conduct the interrogations, aided by the methods of the Illumination."

"These 'methods' usually include intimidation and, if necessary, torture ," Vyxara remarked dryly. "The Illumination believes that the truth is most likely to come to light under the brightly blazing fire of pain."

Valentina suppressed a shudder. She noticed that Innogen was barely breathing beside her, her face as pale as freshly fallen snow.

"You will receive a summoning for questioning," the Emberwarden said. "Those who are summoned for questioning should be present at the time indicated. Failure to attend will be taken as an admission of guilt."

Eastwald stepped forward again, his hands raised in an almost blessing gesture. "These measures may seem severe," he said, "but remember – they are for your protection. The Illumination is like the Martyr's purifying flame – it burns only the impure while leaving the pure untouched."

"A pretty metaphor ," snorted Vyxara. "Which should be suspicious to anyone who's ever watched a fire."

"Decan Valemont," Eastwald said without turning around, "has kindly agreed to assist Illumination in this sacred work. Have you not, Your Magnificence?"

Valemont stepped forward, his face a mask of polite neutrality, but his eyes betrayed his suppressed anger. "The University is, of course, cooperating with the Illumination," he said stiffly. "We are sure that any suspicions will prove unfounded."

"We'll see," Eastwald replied with a thin smile. "We'll see about that."

He cleared his throat. "One last thing – there is no reason for all righteous students and professors to restrict their normal activities. You can visit the city anytime you like. Just make sure that you behave... decently."

Valentina frowned. That was strange – no curfew? She would have expected the Illuminator to drastically restrict the students' freedom of movement.

"No, that's actually very clever ," Vyxara murmured approvingly. "He wants potential evildoers to be able to move around freely. That way they can be observed, can make mistakes, can betray themselves. A complete curfew would only lead to forbidden activities dying down, without chance to catch anyone."

"That makes sense," Valentina thought reluctantly.

"Breakfast is over," Eastwald announced. "You are dismissed."

No one moved for a long moment. Then one student slowly rose, then another, until finally everyone stood up, albeit hesitantly. The chatter and laughter that usually accompanied their meals had disappeared, replaced by hushed whispers and the nervous scraping of chairs.