[Melas] - Chapter 86: Adrian VIII - Heresy (Patreon)

Author's note:

December 12 2020: Same thing as before. I'm super low energy. Like literally running at 1% battery. Trying to do this as well as Salvos while Finals is right around the corner was a dumb idea. And my dog's condition is worsening unfortunately. There will be a regular Melas chapter tomorrow, but I can't say it will be excellent like I want it to be. 

But we push through. No matter what, we push forward.

31/12/2020 Sorry for the late chapter. And unfortunately, there will only be one chapter this week.

I can't lie and say it's not demotivating to see the chapters after my break get less than half the views of my chapters before I took my much needed break. And seeing my ranking drop from 500 to 600 and my rating drop from 4.37 to 4.33 is equally demotivating.

However, those weren't what delayed the chapter. The real reason for the delay and the only single chapter this week was A) I got sick and B) I'm celebrating the holidays. Unlike Salvos, I don't have a backlog for Melas so I can't just enjoy myself while I post chapters and occasionally write them over the holidays. And again, I couldn't write as much as I wanted to because I got sick, so even my backlog for Salvos has gotten eviscerated.

Anyway, I'm not proud of the most recent chapter I wrote. I have once again fallen for the trap of writing what I feel are hollow chapters: nothing really happens and scenes are dragged out to reach a certain WC. I need to revisit the Plague Doctor and Hunter arcs to be perfectly honest. They're my favorite arcs, and I want to see what I did right there, and try to implement that for future chapters in Book 3. This means that chapters will be more sporadic, which is the bad news. But if I want to write Melas in a way that I'm proud of, I have to get better at writing.

Adrian stalked through the shadow of the night alone. The foliage around him, while beautiful during the day, morphed into something completely different at night. He would normally be able to rationalize it away— the darkness did not hide Monsters. That was something little children believed.

And yet, his current state of mind did not exactly help his logical thought process. He was afraid. Not just of some random Monster that might not even exist— he was also afraid of the figures he saw creeping up ahead.

There were two of them. One of them, the boy was certain, was Bashar. The Elven man who had looked after him during his vacation thus far in Ma-Dina. And the other? Adrian wasn’t entirely sure.

He could not make out the figure's face, but he assumed it had been one of the other Elves who came to the dinner gathering a week ago.

It would only make sense. Who else would Bashar be meeting.

And while this meeting might not have any malicious intentions— at least, Adrian hoped Alice was wrong in that regard— they had to be meeting for a reason. And the boy was going to find out.

He quietly followed along, trying his hardest not to make a sound. The two figures weren’t moving at a rushed pace. They seemed to be treating their midnight trek as some sort of leisurely stroll. That allowed Adrian to make as little noise possible. However, he dared not go any closer.

He continued keeping his distance, trying to eavesdrop on whatever he could hear from them. Surely they weren’t planning anything bad— but he just had to make sure, right?

All the boy could make out, however, were bits and pieces of their conversation.

“...it....then...Ilyas.”

“That’s...and...curse.”

Adrian felt his lips purse. He wanted to rub at his ears, but there was no denying it. They had to have been somewhat culpable for what happened to Faizan’s grandfather. The question was: why?

Why did Bashar kill his own dad? The brown haired boy could never imagine himself doing such a thing. It was such an alien thought— to harm a loved one.

But in the first place, was Bashar even loved? It seemed like there was another son— one that Ilyas had cherished more than both his remaining children. And yet, it could not have been an act of envy, as the other son, Ghaleb, was dead.

So what could it have been?

Adrian felt a chill crawl up his spine. Was he possibly planning on killing the Baron, Graham? Did he want to take his revenge against Humans for whatever reason? For courting his sister?

It made no sense. That wouldn’t make sense! Why would he do that!

It was just Alice’s ramblings about some secret conspiracy and plot getting to the boy’s head. There was no way that could be true. But the facts remained in front of him.

He was following Bashar as they walked through the empty, natural streets of Ma-Dina. There were no Elves about— no street lamps but the luminescent Sprite Bulbs sprouting alongside the trees and bushes here. And even then, it was dim. No more than enough to let you see where you were going.

The two finally arrived at whatever destination they were headed to. It was a large, thick tree that was hollowed out. But no one lived in it. An abandoned… tree?

Adrian saw them go in, once again creating the magical ball of light that fascinated him. Was that really magic? The spell circle that formed in the air out of nothing— the symbols that resembled the Venerable Language— all that came from a person?

He could not believe such a practice was considered heresy. It was almost beautiful to him. There was no wonder the mother of Melas, Aria, practiced it. But even so, such a thing could be used for evil, right?

That was what he saw here. A magical curse inflicted on an old, aging Elven man. It was also what he followed now. Down into the tree. There was a hole burrowed down into an underground bunker.

Was this made by magic too? No— it was dug out by hand. He saw the flickering light of the spell up ahead, around the corner.

Adrian peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. He saw shadows moving. There were crates and barrels strewn around, but what stood out to him was the drawing in the center of the floor.

It was the exact same chalk diagram drawn on the paper Alice had shown him! Bashar really cursed his father! And now, they were trying to destroy the evidence. It made the boy take a step back, as he heard one of the men chant.

Fire burst out of a magic circle on his hand, aimed at the ritual circle on the ground. Then he moved to the barrels, the crates, and—

Adrian felt his ankle get tangled on a root and he tripped. The boy fell to the ground, landing on his bottom as he rubbed his side.

“Who was that?”

He glanced up in a panic. He had to get out of here fast! Before they find him. He whirled around to escape, but the figures bounded after him. He stumbled up the dirt path leading up as he tried to get away, but was caught by the shoulder.

He screamed, whirling around as the figure grabbed onto him. He tried to take a swing—

“Adrian?”

And the boy looked up. He stopped screaming, blinking his eyes open and shut a few times. Then he rubbed them. That was not Bashar. Neither was it an Elf.

“...Graham?”

“Adrian, what are you doing here?” the Baron asked, furrowing his brows.

“Wha—” He was speechless. He stared between the two adults. The two men who had looked after him. “What’s going on?”

Bashar sighed, rubbing his temples. “Well, it seems we might have some explaining to do—”

The Elf was interrupted as shouts broke in from up top. There was a clambering as armored men charged into the tree bunker. Alice rushed forward with Alima by her side, alongside the bodyguards of the Callistus Barony.

“Adrian— huh?”

“Brother, Graham, what are you two doing here?”

As it turned out, Alice had been wrong the entire time. Well, she was not entirely wrong. She had dug deep into what Bashar was doing and found evidence of magic.But her conclusion had been off basse.

“It is a curse,” Bashar said, nodding. “But not one we inflicted. It was one we were looking to cure.”

“Cure?” Adrian blinked, glancing between Graham and the Elf. “What do you mean?”

Ilyas has been cursed, but he was not cursed by his family. That would have been ridiculous. There was, however, a faction of Elves that disliked Ilyas. He had fought in the Final Holy War— and while many Elves saw their participation as a source of pride, some saw it as total humiliation. Because they believed that that was when Ghab-Ha had become subordinate to the Holy Xan Empire.

The old Elf had been both then liked and vilified by the Elves in Ma-Dina. And especially after he allowed his daughter to wed a Human noble two decades back,

“I dabbled in magic when I was young,” Graham said, before raising a hand. “It was during the Fiend’s time, and I knew of other noble children than me who thought it a good idea to copy her. The result of such foolishness led to the tightening of heresy laws. I quickly stopped before I became an adult, but I considered myself rather proficient in spells, even if a bit.”

“And I asked for his help,” Bashar added. “That was why he came here.”

Alice stared at this, aghast. Even Alima was shocked— not because she found out her husband was a heretic. Apparently she had always known. She was surprised she wasn’t told that this was the real reason behind the trip— that Ilyas had been cursed.

“Who did this?” she asked, gritting her teeth. “Who would try to cause such harm to our family?”

“It’s the Mutea-Sib Sect.”

“Who?” Adrian blinked.

“They’re a group of Elves— ones that have a strong affiliation with the Dark Crusaders. They were founded by some associates of the Shadow’s Evangelium after they fell.”

Alice piped up for the first time in a while. “Why haven’t I heard of them?”

This time, it was Graham who replied. “Because they’re not well known. They’re only a few hundred at most. Maybe even a thousand. But hardly a threat to the Holy Xan Empire. And they’ve kept their attempts at assassinations to only Ghab-Ha.”

“And they attacked father?” Alima frowned, her brows arching darkly over her eyes. “Why?”

“Because they could.”

They targeted prominent figures to prove a point. To prove that they were dangerous. Adrian could not understand this logic— wouldn’t they want to remain as inconspicuous as possible to not draw the ire of the Inquisitors or even Saints and Saintesses?

But apparently they wanted that. They wanted to enrage the Baron— get him to raise this issue in the Holy Xan Empire, and force them to bear down on Ghab-Ha even more. They wanted to sow chaos. But Graham would not rise to it.

“I’m sorry, Alima,” he said, hugging his wife. “I tried to save your father. I really did. This spell we did— it was a ritual we found that was supposed to dispel curses. But this one— it was a curse of degradation. It makes the recipient go insane, lose their mind, and slowly wither away.”

“So that’s why he brought up Ghaleb. Even after he left us…” the Elf woman trailed off.

“Yes,” Bashar replied as he nodded. “It made father reverse the reality of the situation in his head. It’s a terrible way to go, but it was not painful.”

“How so? He was suffering!” Alima sputtered.

“Graham’s magic helped suppress that part of the curse. That was all we could do.”

She sobbed. “You told me he was ill. Why didn’t you— either of you tell me this?!”

“I’m sorry.” Both men said it at the same time. They loved her— they did not want to hurt her. That was why they came together in secret. Even though both men disliked each other.

Yes, Alice had been correct in her assessment of their relationship. Neither were fans of each other— Bashar was a proud Elf. Perhaps slightly disdainful, but not beyond reason. Whereas Graham was a noble. He could respect Elven culture, but he could not respect any overt disrespect to his station.

So Alice had not been wrong when she told Adrian that there was something going on. But her belief— the idea that it had been born from this initial reasoning— was merely based on the novels the girl had led. And Adrian had believed it too, because it was just that: a child’s imagination.

Two children’s imagination that led to the investigation of the truth. A truth with no villains and no resolution. There was tragedy, and nothing else.

And sometimes, they learned, that was simply the course of life.

On the return trip, Alice was more aloof. In fact, she had been that way ever since she found out that Graham used magic. They made her promise not tell anyone— just as they did Adrian. And they did. They didn’t even tell Faizan about it.

But that didn’t change the fact that she knew. And he knew. But while Adrian was taking it in stride, Alice was genuinely shook by the fact.

“I never knew that…” Alice whispered.

“Did you say something?” Adrian asked, turning to her.

The two were back in the dorms of the Academy. They had seen Faizan off— he would go back to his father’s estates for the rest of the summer, leaving Adrian and Alice to themselves.

“No, I just—” She hesitated, biting her lower lip. Then she sighed. “I always thought magic was evil— the root of all evil. Created by the Devil. I mean, I know that that was never in the religious texts we read. But I always assumed it had to be so— the Devil created Damnation, so why not magic?

“But now, I have so many people telling me at once that magic isn’t actually evil. That the nobility— even if it’s a minority, it’s still a significant portion of them— practiced magic in the past. And I just… don't know. Why would they do that? Isn’t it bad?”

She turned to him, face filled with uncertainty.

“You defended magic, didn’t you? You said it wasn’t all bad. Why?”

Adrian paused, considering this. Truth be told, he didn’t really know why it wasn’t bad. He just knew that Melas and her mother had been good. And apparently they had been spellcasters. So if they were good and they did magic, magic could not be bad. That was his rationale. But he couldn’t tell Alice that. All he could was tell her what he knew, and that was…

“I don’t know either,” he said, meeting her gaze. He didn’t blink or look away, although Alice was taken aback.

“What?”

“I mean I do not know why magic isn’t bad. I don’t think it’s good either— I just know it can not just be bad.”

Her lips drew itself into a thin line. “But why do you think that?”

“That—” He hesitated. She folded her arms as he responded. “I can’t tell you.”

“You always say that!” Alice pointed at him. “You can never tell me anything— you have so many secrets!”

“I can’t.” He averted his gaze. She sighed, slumping over the bed. Adrian shifted uncomfortably, and there was a moment of tense silence. But eventually, the girl broke it.

“Fine,” she said, sitting up. “You can’t tell me. You can’t tell me like you always can’t.”

Adrian expected her to get mad— to angrily leave the room. But instead, she walked up to him. She leaned over close, grabbing his hand. “Alice, what—”

“You can’t tell me now, and I will accept that only if you promise you will tell me all these secrets of yours in the future. Why you came here. Why Saint Theron brought you here. Why magic isn’t bad. What is it you want to achieve in this school— because I can tell you don’t exactly like most of the student body in Xander’s Academy.”

Adrian backed away from her. “I can’t—”

She held on, leaning closer. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Adrian looked at this— at her. And he felt his cheeks burn up. He wasn’t sure why. Was it hot in here?

Regardless, he slowly nodded.

“I promise.”