2. Finzar

two

Finzar

I stalk around the wreckage the heretic has caused, feeling the crunch of shattered metal under my boots. Her craft smashed through the entrance of our sacred cavern sanctuary. The crumpled metal reeks of burnt fuel and chemicals, foreign smells violating this hallowed space. How dare she defile these grounds with such reckless destruction!

More unsettling is the way she faces my presence—her fiery eyes roving over my form instead of cowering in fear. This arrogant female. Can't she feel the power of the Solar Nexus radiating from me? I am honed to break even the most stubborn of wills. This heretic will be no exception. Despite her bonds, she blazes with a fire I have not encountered in countless cycles of purification rituals. Yet, despite my training, it stirs something unfamiliar within me—a hunger that goes beyond my sworn duty to the Nexus.

I circle her slowly, drinking in every detail. Her feminine form is in a bodysuit that leaves little to the imagination, revealing curves that my hands itch to explore. But it's the fierce determination in her eyes that truly captivates me. She meets my gaze without flinching, a challenge in every line of her body.

Part of me wants to lash out, to punish her smirking lips with my fangs. To crush every flicker of resistance until she writhes at my feet, begging for the revelations I can bestow upon her when I strip away her ignorance. To make her understand the folly of her arrogance as I claim every inch of her feminine flesh as my own.

"Your name, apostate," I demand, my voice a low growl, each word dripping with authority. My fingers twitch, eager to tighten around her throat. "Speak it so I may properly dedicate your cleansing to the Solar Gods."

She meets my gaze, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Loelle," she spits, as if her name itself is a weapon. "Not that it matters to you, sun scum."

I roll her name on my tongue, tasting it. Letting the syllables caress my lips the way I want to touch her. Loelle. It suits her—wild and untamed, like the scorching winds of the Aridium desert. Her face remains defiant, but there is a spark in her eyes that is new. Impure needs clench my loins, which I ruthlessly leash. My creed is supposed to extinguish such base cravings. My sole purpose is as our dark blade, using brutality to make defiant souls submit to our ways. To purge the unworthy blasphemers against our teachings.

"Loelle," I repeat, tasting the syllables. "You'll remember this moment as the beginning of your salvation. Take her to the purification chambers," I order my acolytes, never breaking eye contact with the apostate. "I will oversee this one's cleansing personally."

They haul her off, her curses echoing through the cavern as she struggles. I watch the sway of her hips as she's dragged away, noting the way the guards struggle to contain her fiery spirit. Her defiance is a tantalizing promise of the battle to come.

Loelle.

I will see her cleansed. Her flesh will burn and blister, her will shall shatter. Then I will bring her salvation, and she will be grateful to receive it.

I turn back toward the entrance, staring at the storm outside. A strange sensation is churning in my chest, one I have never felt before. I do not care for it. It is a weakness, one I must overcome.

"Secure the wreck and the temple," I say, knowing the acolytes will obey. "We are too close to the Solstice and must remain vigilant. Our enemies grow bolder, and while their attacks are futile, they always leave chaos in their wake."

"It shall be done, Master Finzar," one of them says, bowing his head.

"Go then. Make haste; time is of the essence."

The acolytes bow their heads in unison and depart. They will not question my orders.

"May the light of the sun burn bright within us," I whisper, before turning back to follow Loelle to her destiny.

Her fate is sealed, and I will be the one to see it fulfilled.

I head toward the purification chamber at a measured pace, my robes swirling around me. There is no need to rush, for this ritual will take time and I must prepare myself.

As I walk down the winding corridors, the sounds of her curses and struggles grow louder. It is good that she is so defiant. The flames will burn all the brighter for it.

I reach the purification chamber and pause, taking in the sight before me. As expected, Loelle is naked and secured to the ritual altar. Her wrists and ankles are bound with consecrated chains, leaving her spread eagled and vulnerable. The cold stone beneath her contrasts with the heat of her defiance. Yet even now, she glares at me with undimmed fire in her eyes, a blaze that stirs something primal within me.

She struggles against her restraints. Her fiery hair lays in waves beneath her back. My fingers twitch at the sight, wanting to run themselves through the silken strands.

"Loelle," I say, my voice rumbling deep in my chest. "Prepare yourself. Your salvation is at hand."

She turns her head toward me, her eyes blazing with anger. "Go to hell, sun scum."

"Your defiance only heightens the glory of your eventual submission," I tell her, my voice low and resonant in the chamber. "The harder you resist, the sweeter your surrender will be."

I approach the altar, letting my fingertips trail along its edge. The stone is cool beneath my touch, a contrast to the heat building within me. I've performed this ritual countless times, but never has it felt so… personal.

"I will never submit to you or your demented cult, you psychotic fucker!" Loelle spits, straining against her chains.

Her words should enrage me, but they send a thrill down my spine. I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "We shall see, little flame. We shall see."

I can feel my cock hardening, pressing against the fabric of my robes. The sight of her tied up and helpless is doing things to me, awakening primal urges I thought long buried. My breath quickens, and I feel a flush of heat spreading across my skin. The chamber suddenly seems too warm, too close. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch her, to explore every curve and valley of her body.

It is then I notice the two acolytes who have remained silent and watchful. Their faces are impassive behind their ceremonial masks, but I can feel the weight of their gazes. Do they sense my struggle? Can they see the desire burning in my eyes? The thought sends a chill down my spine, reminding me of my duty and snuffing the fire that threatens to burn me.

"Leave us," I command.

They bow and depart, leaving the chamber empty save for the two of us. Loelle and I are finally alone.

"You'll pay for this, you fucking creep," she spits.

"There is no escape for you now, apostate," I say, stepping closer.

My eyes rake over her body, taking in the curve of her breasts, the taut muscles of her abdomen. She is beautiful, strong, and proud.

And she is mine.

The idea of claiming her for myself twists something inside me, making my cock throb painfully. This is wrong, so wrong. But I can't deny how much I want her. I move to the altar, leaning over her body. She looks up at me with wide eyes, her breath coming fast.

"You think you're going to break me?" she whispers, her voice shaking slightly.

"Oh yes," I reply, my voice husky.

I trace my finger along her jawline, down the column of her throat, across her collarbone. This is not what should happen, but I cannot help myself.

"I'll never give in to you," she says, her eyes blazing.

"We shall see, little flame. We shall see."

What is it about her that draws me so strongly? I can't let her see the effect she's having on me, so I pull back, forcing my lust down.

"The ritual preparation begins," I say, stepping away.

"Ritual? You mean this isn't it?" she asks, confused.

"This is merely the prelude," I reply. "The ritual will begin once I've stripped away your defenses and bared your soul for the gods to judge."

"What are you going to do to me?" she asks, a hint of fear in her voice.

"First, I prepare you for your cleansing," I say as I move toward the cabinet containing the instruments of my art to force myself to prepare the ritual implements, knowing it will take time to consecrate them and the chamber.

Painstakingly I go through the motions, lighting the incense and the candles, preparing the scented oils and the sacred dagger. Loelle shouts insults and pulls against her bonds, but I ignore her for now. Purification is not something to be rushed, lest the gods reject the offering during the final ritual. And she will have my full attention soon enough.

"Are you afraid, apostate?" I ask as I return to the altar.

"No," she lies, her voice trembling.

"Liar," I say, my lips curling into a cruel smile. "Your fear is as palpable as the stench of your sweat."

"Fuck you," she snaps, her defiance returning.

"That's not part of the ritual," I reply, chuckling. But oh, how I wish it were.

I reach out and touch her, my fingertips trembling slightly as they caress her warm skin. I run them along the sharp line of her jaw, feeling the tension in her muscles as she clenches her teeth. Slowly, I trace a path down her throat, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch. Her skin is impossibly soft, like silk under my calloused hands.

As I reach her collarbone, I see the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her breathing shallow and quick. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across her skin, highlighting every curve and hollow. The air in the chamber feels thick, heavy with the scent of incense and anticipation.

Her skin is smooth and unblemished, save for a large, crescent-shaped scar just above her left clavicle. I wonder about its origin. Anger prickles at my senses. Yet isn't that what I'm here to do? I push the intrusive thought away and focus on the feel of her, which sends a surge of arousal through me, a heat that spreads from my core to the tips of my fingers.

With great effort, I force myself to pull away, my hand lingering for a moment before breaking contact. Losing the feel of her is almost painful. I turn toward my table of instruments, the metal tools glinting ominously in the low light. Each step away from her feels like a battle, and my body hungers to return to her warmth.

I pick up the first implement, a slender rod tipped with a wickedly sharp point. It is a tool designed to break the flesh and pierce the soul. I know it well, as it's my most trusted companion. But a flickering candle catches my attention, and a wicked idea springs into my mind.

I set the sharp rod aside and approach the altar once more, my robes whispering across the floor. The candlelight casts flickering shadows on the walls, making Loelle look even more beautiful. I take a small glass vial of oil and drizzle it over the candle, watching as the flame turns from a flickering yellow to a rich red before bringing the candle over to Loelle.

She watches me warily. Her eyes narrow, but she remains silent.

I lower the candle, letting the hot wax drip onto her exposed skin. She inhales sharply, her body tensing as the pain flares.

I continue to drip the hot wax, enjoying the way her body reacts. Her skin is slick with sweat. As the wax drips down her breasts, I notice her nipples are hard and her skin is flushed. My little flame is enjoying this. But not as much as I am.

I continue further, letting the wax drip onto her abdomen, watching the way her muscles contract and flex. She bites her lip, trying not to cry out.

It is beautiful. She is beautiful.

I move the candle lower still, letting the wax drip onto her pubic mound, watching the way her legs tense and her hips jerk. She cries out, her eyes rolling back in her head as she bucks against the restraints.

"Please, stop," she whispers. "It's too much."

"We're only getting started," I say, my voice husky.

She whimpers, her body trembling. I run my fingers along her thigh, teasing her.

"Please," she begs. "Please."

"So impatient," I murmur.

I continue to drip the wax slowly, enjoying the way her body writhes. The way her back arches and her toes curl.

As the last drop of wax falls, I set the candle aside and watch her body tremble. Her skin is slick with sweat and her breath comes in ragged gasps. I can smell her arousal, the musky scent making my cock throb with desire. I have never lain with a female, neither my kind nor human, yet something about Loelle makes me want to claim her. My fangs itch to mark her as my own.

But I cannot. This is too important. She will be our last sacrifice to the sun gods before the Solstice in two days. It cannot be coincidence that she appeared amid the storm. I must make sure she is willing, as our final offering must be pure.

"Tell me, little flame," I murmur, "What did you do to find yourself here, at my mercy?"

She turns her face away, her lips pressed tightly together.

"It was a simple smuggling mission," she finally says, her voice quiet. "I just wanted to get it done and be out of the storm."

"And instead, you found yourself caught by the Nexus' faithful," I say, my voice low and rough. "Such are the trials of criminal unbelievers."

"Go fuck yourself," she snaps, her eyes blazing.

"Your defiance is futile," I reply. "The sun gods have judged you and found you wanting. Only the light of our truth can purge the darkness from your soul."

"You're crazy," she hisses.

"I am an inquisitor of the Solar Nexus," I say, my voice echoing in the chamber. "I have cleansed countless souls and sent them to the gods. I am their chosen instrument, the Dark Blade of the Nexus."

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with fear and defiance. "I will not succumb," she whispers, but I hear the uncertainty in her voice.

A few hours have passed, and I have taken time with my little flame, enjoying her biting words as I ready her for the ritual. By now, I should have her screaming in agony. The ritual demands a willing sacrifice, and pain is the quickest way to bring the truth to those who are blind. But Loelle is different. I do not wish to hear her screams of pain; I want her screams of pleasure. The realization sends a thrill through me.

How far can I push her before she breaks?

My many tools of various shapes and sharpness clutter the stone table, but none sing to me as they should. Instead, my gaze lands on a jug of scented oil I use for cleansing. I lift the jar, inhaling its fragrant scent. The sweet fragrance reminds me of the gardens of my childhood a lifetime ago.

Orphaned after my parents died suddenly, I was sold to the highest bidder by my uncle. The Nexus found me then, a lost soul in need of purpose. They gave me a home, a family, a calling. But now, as I stand here, the certainty that has guided me for so long wavers. The oil's aroma, so like the flowers my mother once tended, stirs long-buried memories and doubts I try to push away as I walk toward my female flame.

I pour a small amount into the palm of my hand, then slowly begin rubbing it into her skin. My fingers glide over her body, exploring every inch, helping remove the wax as I massage the oil into her delicate skin. She trembles under my touch, her breath catching as I stroke her breasts.

I continue to massage the oil into her skin, the scent of it filling the chamber. Her skin is soft and smooth, her curves a revelation. It is a pleasure to touch her, to explore her body, and I do not rush it.

"Does it feel good, apostate?" I murmur, my fingers dancing over her inner thighs.

"Y-yes," she gasps.

"Tell me what you want," I growl, my voice husky with desire I'm struggling to contain.

She turns her face away, conflict clear in her eyes. "I… I want nothing from you," she says, but her body betrays her, arching into my touch.

"Liar," I breathe, my fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "Your body speaks the truth your lips deny."

"No," she gasps, shaking her head. "You're my enemy."

I lean closer, my breath hot on her ear. "Then why aren't you fighting harder, little flame?"

She shivers, her resolve visibly crumbling. "I… I can't…"

"Can't what?" I press, my own control slipping. But she shuts down and says nothing else, which only fuels my desire more.

My cock strains under my robes, aching for release. I can feel her wetness on my fingers, her desire for me as powerful as my own for her. For a moment, I'm lost in the haze of lust, my body screaming to claim her.

Reality crashes back like a tidal wave, dousing the flames of desire. The ritual demands purity, and I am its guardian. A test from the gods, perhaps? Or a clever ploy by this cunning apostate? Either way, I will not be found wanting.

I pull my hand away, my face hardening into a mask of cold authority. "Your tricks won't work on me, heretic," I growl, my voice laced with contempt. "Did you think you could seduce your way out of your fate?"

Her eyes widen, a mix of confusion and desperation. "No, please! I wasn't—"

I cut her off with a sharp gesture. "Silence. Your lies fall on deaf ears."

I turn away, not in retreat, but in dismissal. Her pleas mean nothing to me. As Master Inquisitor of the Solar Nexus, no mere female will sway me from my purpose.

I stride toward the hidden door at the rear of the chamber, my movements purposeful and controlled. The scents of incense and arousal linger in the air. I will not let that cloud my judgment. No matter how delightful the temptation is, I must resist.

As I reach the doorway, I hear the approach of two acolytes. Perfect timing. I step out to meet them, effectively blocking their view of Loelle. Whatever weakness I might have shown, I must ensure it is gone now. I must be an unyielding servant of the sun gods.

"Report," I command, my voice brooking no argument. The acolytes snap to attention, ready to serve their master.

"Master Finzar," the tallest calls out, his voice tinged with urgency. "The High Inquisitor requires your presence."

A chill runs down my spine. High Inquisitor Sakar will have been informed of our intruder, no doubt seeing it as a sign from the gods to bless this Solstice and their awakening. His summons is never a trivial matter.

"I will attend him in a moment," I bark, the authority in my voice stopping them in their tracks. The words echo in the chamber, bouncing off the stone walls of the temple.

They hesitate for a moment before one steps forward. Vixar. An ambitious acolyte, no doubt wishing to ingratiate himself in the ritual. His red eyes dart nervously toward the purification chamber.

"Master, the High Inquisitor has called for you to come at once. He has sent us to fetch you. We are to attend to the apostate."

I glare at him, anger flaring in my chest. The thought of anyone else touching Loelle sends a surge of possessive rage through me. "She is mine to prepare for the cleansing," I snap, my voice low and dangerous.

"Master, please allow me to prepare the apostate," Vixar says, his voice trembling slightly. "We have orders from the High Inquisitor."

"No," I snarl, my rage barely contained. The air seems to crackle with tension.

"But Master, the High Inquisitor—"

"I said no," I growl, my voice dripping with menace. I step closer to Vixar, towering over him. "You will stay away from her. If you dare to defy me, there will be consequences."

Vixar steps back, his eyes wide, but there's a flicker of defiance in them I don't like. The scent of fear is there, but it's mixed with something else—ambition, perhaps. His posture, though submissive, has a tension to it that speaks of barely contained rebellion.

"Of course, Master Finzar," he says, his voice steady despite his apparent fear. "We will await your return."

But I can see the calculation in his eyes. He's weighing his options, considering whether following the High Inquisitor's orders might be more beneficial to his advancement than obeying me. I don't trust him. Ambition like his is dangerous, especially when backed by higher authority.

I narrow my eyes at him, my voice low and threatening. "Remember, Vixar; I will know if you disobey me. And no order, no matter who from, will protect you from my wrath."

He nods, but the glint in his eyes tells me this isn't over. I'll need to be quick in my meeting with the High Inquisitor. I take one last look toward the room which holds Loelle. She is still bound and waiting, her skin glistening with oil in the flickering candlelight. I can't leave Loelle vulnerable to the machinations of an ambitious acolyte for long. I must return quickly.

My robes swirl around me as I stride past the two acolytes to the High Inquisitor's quarters, the fabric whispering against the stone floor. The corridors are dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as I pass. The air grows cooler as I approach Sakar's chambers, an unwelcome change to the heated atmosphere I left behind.

I enter without knocking, as is my right as Master Inquisitor. The room is austere, dominated by a large stone desk. Behind it sits High Inquisitor Sakar, his weathered face etched with lines of cruelty and zeal. His red eyes, cold and calculating, fix upon me as I enter.

"Finzar," Sakar says, his voice like gravel. "The Solstice approaches, and our scouts report an unprecedented drought in the Western regions. The people grow restless."

I stiffen, aware of the implications. "High Inquisitor, surely the rains will come—"

"Silence!" Sakar snaps, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "We cannot afford uncertainty. The awakening of the sun gods is more crucial than ever. Aridium's very survival hangs in the balance."

I nod, feeling the weight of his words. The sun gods' return promises an end to the cycle of droughts that have plagued our world for generations. It's why we've dedicated our lives to this cause, why we've made such sacrifices.

Sakar's gaze bores into me. "Your progress with the female is too slow, Finzar. We need her broken and willing before the Solstice. Her sacrifice must be pure or all our efforts will be for naught."

"High Inquisitor, I assure you—"

"Your assurances mean nothing!" Sakar roars, slamming his fist on the desk. "I want results, Finzar. Break her by any means necessary. If you can't, I'll find someone who can."

The threat hangs heavy in the air. I swallow hard, knowing Sakar's ruthlessness knows no bounds. "I understand, High Inquisitor. It will be done."

Sakar's lips curl into a cold smile. "See that it is. And Finzar? To ensure your focus remains… undivided, I'm assigning Vixar to assist you. He'll report directly to me on your progress."

My blood runs cold. Vixar, the ambitious acolyte who's been nipping at my heels. Having him watch my every move could jeopardize everything. "High Inquisitor, I assure you that's unnecessary—"

"It is not a request, Finzar," Sakar growls. "Unless you prefer I find a more permanent solution to your recent… ineffectiveness."

I clench my jaw, knowing I have no choice but to agree. "As you wish, High Inquisitor."

"Remember, Finzar," he says as I turn to leave. "The future of Aridium rests on your shoulders. Fail, and you doom us all to an eternity of dust and ashes."

I leave his chambers, my mind whirling. As I make my way back to Loelle, I find myself torn between my loyalty to the Nexus and the stirring of something new and dangerous within me.