Time passed slowly, as it tended to do in a world without phones or computers. With only a few books in his room, Norton should have struggled. But twenty-plus years of isolation had made him an expert at doing nothing. Lying still while his mind wandered elsewhere came naturally now.

  By the time he'd pissed three times and his stomach had growled its fifth protest against the lack of food, the darkness in his room had begun yielding to gray morning light.

  Clank. Clank. Clank.

  The sound of church knights moving outside jolted him awake. His heart seized.

  Those footsteps sounded like they were heading his way.

  Norton sat up quickly, pulled his missionary robes back on, and arranged himself properly on the edge of his bed, waiting.

  Why does it sound like a whole group? Since when did fetching someone for a ritual require this much ceremony?

  A bad feeling crept through him, but he couldn't figure out what the hell this church was up to.

  The door opened before he could speculate further.

  Creak.

  Father Mia stood in the doorway, six church knights behind him.

  "Father." Norton's voice came out steadier than he felt.

  Why bring so many knights?

  Mia looked at Norton's fine features, his face caught between a smile and something else. Regret flickered in his eyes.

  Such a handsome boy. If only he'd arrived a few years earlier. Under his personal guidance, Norton might have developed real faith. Might have avoided this unfortunate end.

  "Norton." Mia's voice was gentle. "The Ascension Ritual awaits."

  Norton rose from his bed, eyes darting to the knights behind the old priest. "Is it time already?"

  "Yes, my son." Mia smiled faintly and turned. "Come. It begins in fifteen minutes."

  The knights parted, forming an honor guard as Norton fell into step beside Father Mia. His chest loosened.

  Not here to kill me then.

  He'd nearly panicked, seeing so many knights. For a moment, he'd imagined that greatsword taking his head.

  But that was stupid. He'd just been ordained. They wouldn't promote him one day and execute him the next.

  Still, his nerves remained. He still didn't know what the Ascension Ritual actually was. One wrong step, one breach of rules, and those swords would find work after all.

  He hurried his pace, drawing closer to Mia.

  "Father," he murmured, keeping his voice low, "what exactly will I need to do during the ritual?"

  Mia shook his head, amused. "Nothing at all, child. You're the centerpiece. The ritual happens to you. Others will handle the rest."

  Centerpiece. Good. That sounds important.

  Wait.

  Wait wait wait.

  Norton's brow furrowed. That word choice bothered him. But before he could probe further, Mia had moved on, and the knights pressed close behind.

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  Norton forced himself to relax.

  Probably just jealous of me getting special treatment, he told himself, remembering the missionary who'd delivered his books yesterday. That's why he looked so pissed. Some people can't stand seeing others succeed.

  Shame, really. If this church were even remotely normal—say, Papal States level of normal—he might consider staying. Free food, free shelter. Not bad.

  But this place was anything but normal.

  The procession moved through silent corridors toward the cemetery at the back of the cathedral complex. No one spoke. Church rules forbade it.

  As they walked, Norton's confidence began wavering again.

  Why him? What made him special enough to be centerpiece of anything?

  His mind drifted to the obvious answer. The only thing that set him apart from every other missionary in this place.

  His face.

  Was Father Mia's taste truly so broad? Did some bishop somewhere have ideas about him?

  Norton's walk grew tighter. He consciously clenched certain muscles.

  The route became familiar. He'd walked it many times before, back when he was still a low-ranking believer assigned to clean the cemetery once a month.

  Of course the Ascension Ritual would be held in a cemetery. Ascension was for the dead. Only the dead could ascend.

  Made perfect sense.

  So the ritual's probably just us standing around reciting scripture while honoring the departed, he reasoned. And I'm the centerpiece because... I'm newly ordained? The fresh face representing new life?

  His reasoning felt solid. Comforting.

  Then why did Mia say the ritual happens to him?

  Centerpiece.

  Happens to.

  Cemetery.

  Knights escorting me personally.

  No food for two days.

  Wait.

  Wait.

  Oh fuck.

  Norton's heart dropped into his stomach.

  They were going to make him ascend.

  Right now. Today. In this cemetery.

  He was going to be a sacrifice.

  The realization hit like a physical blow. His steps faltered. The knights behind him pressed closer, armor clanking, a wall of steel and muscle preventing retreat.

  He wanted to run. His legs wouldn't obey.

  He wanted to fight. His hands wouldn't clench.

  Twenty years of isolation had stripped him of everything except survival instinct. And that instinct now screamed one thing:

  You're going to die.

  And if God is real, you're going to meet Him.

  Norton had never believed in God. Hadn't believed in his past life, hadn't believed in this one. The books they forced him to read meant nothing. The prayers he mumbled meant less.

  But if the stories were true—if God did exist, if He really had mated with sheep and corpses and whatever else moved—then what waited for Norton on the other side?

  A deity with urges.

  A deity who'd killed his own son.

  A deity who'd nailed that son to a cross and left him to rot in the sun.

  I'm so fucked.

  The cemetery gates loomed ahead.

  "Father." Norton's voice came out smooth, deferential, the perfect blend of curiosity and devotion. "I was wondering about the Ascension Ritual. What exactly will happen? I want to make sure I'm fully prepared to receive God's grace."

  Mia's weathered face softened. Approval warmed his eyes.

  "Excellent, my son. Your faith runs deep. God will welcome you warmly." He patted Norton's shoulder paternally. "As for receiving His grace—don't concern yourself with that. Once you're serving at His side, you'll bask in His holiness every day."

  The words hit Norton like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head in midwinter.

  His face went green.

  I knew it. I fucking knew it. This goddamn church.

  "Serving at His side" meant "being sacrificed." Why couldn't they just say it?

  Norton's voice trembled as he clutched at his last shred of denial. "Father... are you saying..."

  "Yes, child. You're the centerpiece of the Ascension."

  "So you're going to kill me."

  "Burn you." Mia's face shone with pious conviction. "The sacred flames will cleanse your impurities, wash away your unclean thoughts, and purify your soul for ascent into Heaven. To serve eternally at God's side—there is no greater honor, no more blessed fate."

  Looking at that devout old face, listening to those sincere words, Norton felt something inside him crack.

  Desolation flooded through him. And with it, something else.

  Twenty years of isolation. Twenty years of repression. Twenty years of watching people die for stepping on flowers or asking for bread. Twenty years of swallowing his rage.

  And now they wanted to burn him alive.

  The last leash snapped.

  "Mia, you son of a bitch!"

  The scream tore through the silent corridor. His fist followed, packed with two decades of fury and the desperate strength of a dying man.

  If he was going out, he was taking this bastard with him.

  Mia's eyes went wide. "Holy shit!"

  In sixty-nine years of life, through decades of service in this church, no one—no one—had ever laid hands on him. The missionaries they raised were creatures of pure obedience. Even the ones with unclean thoughts, the ones they executed, they went to their deaths weeping and begging for forgiveness. They might try to run. They never fought back.

  So when Norton's bony fist slammed into Mia's eye socket, neither the old priest nor the armored knights surrounding them saw it coming.

  CRACK.

  The punch carried every ounce of Norton's wiry strength. Mia's head snapped back. His legs buckled. He hit the stone floor hard, one hand clutching his swelling eye.

  "AHHH!" His scream came out thin, reedy, shocked. "Guards! Guards! He's unclean! The boy is unclean!"

  The knights finally moved.

  SHINK.

  Greatswords cleared scabbards.

  SHUNK.

  Norton never reached Mia's prone body. He'd taken one step toward the old priest when cold steel punched through his back.

  The blade entered between his shoulder blades and exited through his chest, its blood channel already doing its work.

  Norton looked down.

  A foot of gleaming metal protruded from his sternum, red dripping from its tip.

  Huh.

  He tried to turn, to swing at the knight behind him. His right arm rose halfway. Then it dropped.

  His legs gave out, but the blade held him upright, impaled like a specimen.

  Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. His last conscious thought surfaced through the fog:

  Well. At least I don't have to sell my ass to accompany God.

  A sword through the heart kills fast.

  The whole thing—the punch, the stab, the collapse—took maybe five seconds.

  Norton's head lolled back. His hood slipped off, revealing his pale, sharp-featured face. His eyes stayed half-open, glassy and unfocused, just like the mother and child from two days ago. Just like every other person the church had killed.

  Blood dripped steadily from the blade, pattering against the stone floor. The sound mixed with Mia's enraged shouting, forming a strange duet—Norton's last requiem.

  "Animal! Filth!" Mia scrambled to his feet, nursing his swollen eye, face purple with rage. "The church fed you! The church clothed you! The church gave you purpose! And this is how you repay us?! This is how you repay God?!"

  He advanced on Norton's suspended corpse, spittle flying.

  "Your unclean soul will suffer in Hell! Your filthy spirit will burn for eternity! Take him to the cemetery! Burn him! Burn him to ash!"

  The knights moved, carrying the body toward its final destination.

  Mia stood there, breathing hard, his ruined eye already swelling shut.

  He'd liked Norton. Genuinely liked him.

  Now?

  Now he wanted to watch those pretty features melt.