Ma’sal was dreaming—at least, he felt his head hazy with delirium. His thoughts were jumbled and mixed together, feverish and indiscernible. He saw himself standing once more in that dark room with the brazier before him, saw himself holding that knife once more in his hands. Yet this time, as he struggled to steel his nerves, he turned around to see Ma and little Yes’san watching him. Their expressions were mingled with despair and disappointment, their faces wearing forlorn countenances. Then, as he reached out a desperate hand to try and touch them, he watched as they turned and walked away, leaving him cold and alone in the dark.

Don’t go, he wanted to scream out. Don’t leave me, he wanted to beg them, but then he watched as they walked closer to meet Pa, as he embraced the burning man. He watched as the greedy fire claimed them too, swallowed them whole as their bodies slowly charred to black. The last things to burn were their faces, all the while staring at him with expressions of disgust and horror. Ma’sal hated to see Ma with that face, with that expression that was utterly alien on her.

Then the fire consumed the rest of them, and they were reduced to ash. The blaze burned ever brighter as its fuel disappeared, spreading out with fiery wings to swallow the only thing left: to swallow him.

He felt the fire catching on his legs even as he ran, felt the heat creep up his chest. He felt the squirming pain in his chest, felt sheer, primal terror seize his thoughts before he fell to the ground with his legs unresponsive. That thing in his body squealed in agony, and he collapsed to the ground flailing, flames surrounding him.

His eyes flew open as he drew in a shuddering gasp. The world around him spun on its axis as he struggled to separate dreams from reality.

Tsaya, he thought tiredly as he sat up, his chest heaving with each breath. Where’s Tsaya. He wanted to see her, wanted to hold her close to him. His body was cold, so terribly cold, and he needed to touch her and feel her warmth against him.

Sweat trickled down his chin and neck as he tried to catch his breath, tried to calm his racing heartbeat. His fingers were trembling, his muscles all shivering, and he glanced down at himself with a hesitant flicker of the eyes, afraid of what he might see.

His skin was covered with grotesque black veins, a latticework of snakes that covered his body and bulged outwards. From the edges of the veins, more of the black shadow crept out like a web, forming strange patterns and tattoos over his skin. The veins themselves pulsed as he watched, throbbing in a slow heartbeat that was not his own.

He could feel it inside of him as well, the foreign shadow that lingered in his body after the offering. The cut on his arm was scarred, the skin seemingly charred even though it had been exposed to the antithesis of fire. Even as he carefully prodded his arm with a finger, the skin seemed to crackle and flake, looking more like sandstone than flesh. Ma’sal resisted the urge to heave as he looked away, forcing himself to think of something else.

The room. What is this place? He glanced around tiredly, finding himself lying in a small, worn cot in a similarly cramped room. A single lantern burned faintly in the corner, its oil low as it guttered. Nearly was a small basin of what appeared to be water, although he could not stare close enough to observe fully—the liquid reminded him too much of the basin, of the brazier, and he felt nauseated whenever his thoughts turned to that.

Something else—think of something else. Tsaya. Where’s Tsaya. Once more, his thoughts returned to the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had kept meaning in his filthy life. He needed to see her; it was a hungering that filled his entire body. With protesting muscles, he slid off the cot and felt his feet strike the cold, stone floor.

Ma’sal managed to stand with much effort, leaning on the wall with an outstretched arm just to manage such a simple act. The movement made his heart pump far harder than it ought to have, and he saw the black veins on his arms suddenly throb in a faster rhythm as well. Yet as he stumbled to the door, a sudden thought seized him—Would she even want to see him?

Fear of his own appearance and revulsion of his own body made him stop at the door, the cold air now beginning to plume with his heated breath. As he stood there frozen with uncertainty, he was unable to take that final step and grasp the door handle. Instead, he was surprised when the door itself swung open apparently of its own accord.

Ma’sal felt his heart stutter in his chest when he saw her, stumbling backwards in a mixture of surprise and overwhelmed emotion.

“Tsaya…” he whispered out lightly as his first instinct was to reach out his hand and touch her. Yet once more guilt and shame stopped him, and he held back with a conflicted expression. Treacherous whispers raved in the back of his mind—thoughts that she would leave him, that she hated him. He almost dared not to look at her, for fear that her beautiful expression would just as easily turn into one of revulsion.

“Why are you crying?” she murmured back, her honeyed voice enough to suddenly ease away the pain of all his wounds, and Ma’sal looked up in shock. Swiftly, she stepped forward wearing an expression of concern, a soft finger swiftly brushing away an unfelt tear on his cheek.

“Love, what’s wrong?” she asked, drawing him in for a warm embrace. Ma’sal could not hold back a shuddering sob, nearly falling to the ground, and he was surprised at her strength as she kept him standing.

“I—I was afraid.” he confessed as he hugged her back, tears now streaming freely down his face. “I was afraid that you would hate me, that you would hate this body of mine. I—I was worried that you wouldn’t want to see me again.” His voice was trembling now, shaking as emotion poured into his words.

Tsaya pulled back, placing her hands on his cheeks as she held him up to meet her gaze. Her eyes had tears of their own, even though they were crinkled in a loving smile. “You are a fool, you know that?” she whispered back to him, and he nearly swooned at the sound of her voice. “You are a sweet, pitiable, wonderful fool.”

With that, she drew him in for a deep kiss, her lips soft and tasting faintly of salt from tears. Ma’sal was tense, his entire body shaking even as he pulled her in closer, afraid to let her go. He ran his hands through the curled locks of her hair, feeling her soft skin against his own before she finally pulled away.

“How could I ever hate you? Nothing inside of you has ever changed.” Gently, she traced a finger along his face, the tip running down his black veins. “Atal loves your heart,” she whispered gently, her eyes shining bright, “not the guise you wear. Should you be a priest or a leper, he loves your heart all the same.” Then, leaning in to plant another kiss on his cheek, she smiled, “And so do I.”

Ma’sal wanted nothing more than to hold her then, than to to keep her with him for the rest of eternity. But her face suddenly fell serious, her expression growing dark, and he felt his own heart grow heavy as well. “What is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse and rasping.

“Atal loves us, but we do not treat him with the same grace.” she replied, her expression one of betrayal, and Ma’sal could feel a knife burying itself in his chest. “There are coming those that would seek to kill our god. They are demons, monsters, and they leave a path of destruction behind them.”

“Already, I have lost many Brothers to these fiends, and still they come.” she wept, and Ma’sal felt an urge of protection swell up inside of him. “There will be more Brothers and Sisters that will stand against them, to protect the god that loves us all.” Tsaya drew in a shuddering breath before looking upwards at him with tear-filled eyes.

“Will you stand with them?”

Ma’sal felt his voice fall quiet, his body unwilling to give a response as he pulled the woman he loved close to his chest. He did not answer, for there was nothing to answer. There was no question, because for him, there was only one choice.

For you? “Of course.”

For you, anything.