Father Verdas’s office was small, dusty, and suffocating. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with tomes, loose-leaf manuscripts, and journals. The room had only one eastern window that brought in some midday light and looked out at ?lskare Delar.

  Elias closed the door behind him. He always hated it here. Books he loved, but these ones always felt like they were judging him somehow.

  “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Elias looked over to see Father Verdas sitting at a desk, scribbling in a book. He was surrounded by numerous neat stacks of papers that threatened to overrun the desk. The old man’s eyes were sunken with dark heavy bags and his graying hair stuck up from where he’d gripped it.

  Elias swallowed and slowly inched towards the desk and stopped at a scuffed spot on the floor. He shuffled his feet over the marks like he always did when he was here for a scolding. “Take all the time you need, Father,” the boy whispered.

  At the sound of Elias’s voice, Father Verdas froze. He put down his quill, then slowly looked up and glared at him. Elias trembled and desperately hoped that Father Verdas couldn’t see his knees knocking together.

  The old man’s eyes flickered between fury and relief. “Where in Crim’s name have you been the last two weeks?”

  Elias clasped his hands in front of him and stared at the floor stammering. “Um…well—”

  Father Verdas slammed his book shut and Elias flinched at the thud. “Do you have any idea of what you’ve put your brothers and I through?”

  Elias kept his eyes on the floorboards below him and shuffled his feet again, unable to answer.

  Father Verdas’s chair scrapped along the floor as the old man rose to his feet. “We searched all through town for you! The surrounding countryside!” He slammed his hand on the desk. “We convinced the mayor to drag the river for you!”

  Elias jumped and his head snapped up to Father Verdas’s glowering eyes. “And now you just waltz back home as if nothing happened?” Father Verdas’s voice rose to a roar, “Care to explain yourself?”

  Elias’s body trembled violently. His teeth chattered as he stared into Father Verdas’s eyes. He opened to mouth to say something. Anything! But his throat went dry, and he found himself clenching his knuckles so tight that they became white, and his bandaged arm twinged with pain.

  “Answer me!” Father Verdas demanded.

  “I…I had to help!” He finally squeaked.

  Father Verdas’s eyes furrowed in momentary confusion, then flashed with renewed anger. “You went with them, didn’t you?” he hissed. “The man with The Lady’s cursed scars and the redhead?”

  Elias gulped and nodded. “Yes, sir. Master Seth and Gloria.”

  Father Verdas balked. “Master Seth?”

  Elias stammered. “H-he’s teaching me sigil magic. Turns out I have a talent for it.”

  Father Verdas growled and shook his head. “The fool seeks wisdom from the wind; The wicked aim to become it.”

  Elias bristled at the proverb. His chest tightened and anger began to rise. “What does that mean?”

  Father Verdas leaned on his desk. “That man is responsible for The Second Winter! Do you remember that, or did he impress you with flashy tricks?”

  Elias clenched his fists, blinking back pain and anger. “Sigil magic isn’t flashy tricks. It’s mastery over yourself and the world around you. It’s discipline, order—”

  “Everything that I’ve tried to teach you.” Father Verdas cut in. “And yet, you never seemed to take to that lesson. Now I hear you’re learning it from that man? A coward who consorts with demons and is responsible for The Second Winter! Is that a man worth modeling your life after?”

  Something snapped in Elias. His jaw clenched and he shook with fury. “And you think you’re any better?” he roared, slamming his left hand on the desk. Father Verdas’s eyes glowed dangerously but Elias didn’t care. “Master Seth is patient and kind! He doesn’t get angry with me when I mess up!”

  He ground his teeth and glared back at Father Verdas. “You on the other hand, pounce on me when I stray even an inch out of line!” He jabbed a finger at the old man. “Who would want to model their life after you?”

  Father Verdas shoved a finger in Elias’s face and leaned in growling. “Don’t get smart with me, boy! If it weren’t for my mercy, you would’ve been dead in an alley beside your mother eaten by rats!" He glowered into the boy's blazing eyes. "I raised you!” Father Verdas spat. “I gave you everything! Shelter, education, a future—and how do you repay me? By selfishly upending all of Westfjord to chase after adventure and glory!”

  “No!” Elias snapped. “I did what you should’ve! Look outside!” He pointed out the window behind him with his aching right hand. “What did you think happened? The Lady just got bored and decided to give back spring!” He slammed a fist into his chest. “I defeated The Lady of The Mountain! I smashed her frozen heart to bits! Now she will never hurt anyone again!”

  Furious tears pricked the young man’s eyes and he laughed dryly. “But that’s still not enough for you, is it?” His lips trembled and his voice rose with each word. “I’ve never been good enough. I will never be good enough for you!”

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  The room fell silent, and the stifling walls were now claustrophobic. Elias panted heavily as tears trickled down his cheeks. He took a shuddering breath, then realized that Father Verdas was staring wide-eyed at his wrapped arm.

  “Elias…” Father Verdas whispered, his voice shaking and eyes quivering with fear. “Why is your arm wrapped up like that man’s?”

  Elias swallowed and looked at his bandaged arm which throbbed painfully. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten why he had come in the first place. He looked up at Father Verdas. “The price I had to pay.”

  He slowly unraveled the bandage and rolled up his sleeve. The frostbitten black had spread up to his shoulder and curling tendrils began to creep towards his chest. His nails were pearl white now, and his forearm was withered. Black flakes of skin peeled off his arm and drifted to the floor.

  “What did you do?” Father Verdas hissed. Anger, grief, and horror swirled in the old man’s paling face as his eyes shifted from Elias’s arm to his face.

  Elias swallowed but held Father Verdas’s gaze. “I had to,” he whispered. “It was the only way to stop her.” He came around the desk and dropped to his knees at Father Verdas’s feet. “I’m sorry, Father,” he wept. “I didn’t mean for everyone to be worried. I wasn’t trying to be selfish. I just…” He bowed down, face to the floor, and started to sob. “I just wanted you to be proud of me.”

  He sniffled and gazed up at Father Verdas. “But I’m back now. Master Seth said it was time to go home. And he couldn’t think of anyone else who could help me.” He raised his blighted hand towards Father Verdas who flinched back. “Please Father,” he begged. “Heal my arm. I will accept any punishment you give me, just give me back my arm.”

  Father Verdas stared at his arm with misting eyes. Father Verdas is…crying? Elias at him worriedly. Father Verdas never cried. “Come here my boy…” he whispered.

  Elias sat up on his knees. The monk reached his hand out but hesitated. Then he grimaced and set his hand on Elias’s blighted arm. He bowed his head and began to murmur in a low tone.

  A white-blue glow formed around Father Verdas’s hand and a cleansing aura blossomed in Elias’s chest. He closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling. It felt like a purifying waterfall crashing over him. The cool, refreshing feeling traveled from his heart down to his blighted arm, where it burned like alcohol poured on a wound.

  Elias sucked in his breath and bit his lip but cool relief soon followed. Slowly strength began to return to his arm. It still felt weak, but the pain began to dissipate until the cleansing aura reached his fingertips and vanished.

  He let out a breath and sighed in relief. “Thank you, Father.” He opened his eyes. “I was afraid. I didn’t know what—” Elias stopped and stared at his arm, blood draining from his face. His youthful skin had been restored, but his arm was still black like frostbite. His eyes went wide, and they snapped up to Father Verdas.

  “I’m sorry, my boy,” the monk whispered, blinking back tears. “There wasn’t much I could do.” He eyed the charcoal arm sorrowfully. “If I had seen the blight when it was a finger or a hand, I may have been able to save it, but this taint…” He shook his head sadly. “It was far too deep for even me to root out.”

  Elias shook and stared at his hand for a moment before desperately looking back at Father Verdas. “No…” He crawled over to Father Verdas who stepped back from him. “Please, Father, there must be a way. There has to be!”

  Father Verdas pursed his lips. “Elias, please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  Elias froze at Father Verdas’s feet and swallowed. “Harder than it…? What do you mean?” He stared at his arm and Father Verdas’s bellows to Master Seth rang in his ears: “You are desecrating this holy place with your cursed filth!”

  Fear pierced his heart, and he looked up at Father Verdas with wide eyes as realization hit him. He swallowed. “Father…?” he whispered, terrified of the answer.

  Father Verdas gave a shaky sigh, then nodded. “I’m sorry my boy, but I cannot make exceptions. Even for you.”

  Elias stared wide-eyed. “What…? But…You stopped it…”

  “I contained it. Your arm is still cursed.” Father Verdas struggled to keep his composure. “Blessed are the pure-hearted, for Crim shall draw near to them, but the wicked shall be marked and driven his sight.”

  Elias couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No….” He shook his head. “No, Father, please don’t do this.”

  Father Verdas’s face wavered for a moment and his voice cracked. “Elias, my son…you are stripped of your rank of novice and are hereby cast out of The House of Crim, forbidden to enter another temple built to his name.”

  Elias’s world shattered. He stared at Father Verdas, struggling to comprehend what he’d just heard. He stared dumb-founded at Father Verdas as the monk smoothed his face to stone. “Elias, remove your habit and…and leave at once.”

  Elias sat on the floor in shock. Leave…? Everything was crumbling around him. And go where?

  “Elias…” Father Verdas said with a soft sternness. “Now please.”

  In a dumb stupor, Elias did as he was told. He pulled off the dirty, blood-stained habit and was left in an undershirt and brown pants. He held the habit in his hands and fingered the fabric. I remember when I got these robes. Elias thought, the memory painfully coming to mind. He had been so proud that day.

  Old hands reached into Elias’s vision and gently tried to take the habit from him. Elias gripped the habit—he didn’t want to give it up. It’s all I have left!

  “Elias,” Father Verdas quietly commanded. “Let go.” Elias held on for a moment longer, then relented and let the fabric slip from his fingers. Elias dully looked up and watched Father Verdas fold his habit and lay it on the desk, then he turned back to Elias. “Wrap up your arm and rise.”

  Elias absently obeyed. He gathered his bandages and bound up his arm until only a sliver of black peeked through the small gap between the end of his sleeve and the top of the wrap.

  Father Verdas walked past Elias and opened the office door. “You were always daydreaming about being somewhere else,” Father Verdas said a bit of spite, creeping into his voice. “Now you don’t have to dream anymore.” He gestured out to the hall. “Go.”

  Elias sat paralyzed on the floor, staring wide-eyed at Father Verdas. It’s all a dream…he thought, I must be sleeping. He began to shake. I’m going to wake up soon. Right? Any moment now.

  The wearied abbot tore his eyes away from the boy. “Elias…” he said quietly. “It’s time to leave.”

  The world wobbled under the boy’s feet when he finally rose and stumbled to the threshold of Father Verdas’s office. He gazed at him with pleading eyes. He’s going to change his mind right? This was just a lesson. Punishment for running away. He’s going to call me back any second and give me my true penance, I’m sure of it. He stopped by the door and hovered, waiting for Father Verdas to speak, but the old man’s face was as cold as steel now.

  Elias licked his lips and met his eyes. “Father…?” he whispered.

  But Father Verdas turned his face away and opened the door another inch. “Leave.”

  The word cut Elias like a knife. He gulped and looked out at the empty hall. A draft blew and the boy shivered. Then slowly he took a step into the long echoing hall.

  The young man looked over his shoulder at Father Verdas and whispered. “Was there ever a moment I made you proud?”

  There was a long devastating silence.

  “Goodbye, Elias.”

  Then the door clicked shut.

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