If the Silence Takes You

“We’ve been expecting you, Lady Marianne,” said the figure in the middle, a human man looking about age fifty. The use of her old name made Viridian’s heart drop. The man lifted his hands to remove his hood, and Viridian felt a pang of dread as she saw the scar on his forehead. A burn mark in the shape of a sun. A thousand memories flooded into her mind. The smell of hot iron and burning flesh, and her father explaining what an honor it was to finally receive the mark, voice slightly raised in order to be heard above the screams. In another life, she’d have a scar to match.

Her head whipped around to look behind her, only to see two more cultists with identical scars and cloaks. They had arrows drawn and pointed at Viridian and her friends. She turned back to the three figures in front of her, her tongue feeling thick and useless in her mouth. They had found her. The Church of the Shattered Sun had found her.