“Yes, but at least you have proof that there’s something to have faith in.” The Potentate shrugged. “Even if we still find a thousand things to argue about, in the details. But I am chosen head of the church, as close as any living person can come to Armes, who left our realm as a mortal man and returned a Divine Being. I feel the Light, and I have faith that the Dark must be fought, and Darvezian is the champion of the Dark, and that you will fight him.” His smile was beatific. “As you are here, I am sure you have already found the truth of the prophecy. You have the weapons and the tools required to perform the task.”

Her heart lurched. “I—yes, I have, Father.” Then there were more words forcing themselves up her throat like vomit: all the sordid details, Penthos’s unspeakable ritual, Enth, her monster.

But there was his hand, lifted to forestall her. “Do not tell me,” he insisted. “This secret is your own.”

And although she had sworn to the others that she would keep it close—although she could not have imagined confessing to what she had countenanced before sitting down here—she was suddenly filled with a terrible need to blurt it all out. If only she could tell the Potentate, and he would nod, and agree that, yes, it would all be for the best. If only she had that absolute reassurance of the righteousness of her cause, then she could cast out doubt, and do what need be done, no matter what… “Father, I fear… some means of mine may not justify the ends.” She found she was shaking. “I cannot see, sometimes, which way the Light is. I cannot tell if I am yet on the path of virtue. It is hard.”

And she choked the words off, terrified that already she had lost his approval, and indeed his eyes had gone wide with alarm, but not for the reason she was prepared for.

“No, no,” he said hurriedly. “It can’t be hard for you. For me, yes! For all of us, trying to keep the candle of the Light burning under the constant shadow of the Dark. But you are the one who will fulfill the prophecy and rid the world of the Dark’s great champion, Darvezian. You must surely be certain. Your every action and thought is pure, I know it.”

She felt something twist and freeze within her. “But you…”