Several hooded figures sat, huddled, in a circle.
Their robes, made of the finest black widow’s silk, made a faint swashing sound as they brushed against the wooden planks.
They sat in silence until one spoke.
His face could barely be seen, but the sole candle cast ghoulish shadows that flitted over his leather skin, almost like a macabre puppet show.
And when the candle decided to take a deep breath — in gulps — the jagged scar on his right cheek flashed a little more ominously. Cowering, the wax melted a little more speedily.
“This is our mission — we must remain faithful to it til death forbids us.”
The one who spoke had a loud booming voice, the kind that could dislodge stalactites from their icy ceilings. Death echoed throughout the empty hallways proceeding from the throne-room.
He went on, taking perverse delight in the sound of his own bellows.
“We must hunt down those who betrayed us. Every single one of them. They are utterly unworthy to belong to our Order.”
Around the circle, the other Knights started nodding in a ritualistic assent. Fired up, they bolted upright, no longer slumped and leaning on their ruby-encrusted staffs for support.
Their hooded heads bobbed back and forth in a slow, mesmerizing ripple. The motions were a hypnotic dance that was beautiful to watch, not the least because the Knights themselves appeared hypnotized.
Til the youngest of them all, a fair lad sitting directly opposite the one who spoke, broke the spell.
“But— but, Master — the Order’s creed…”
“What about the Order’s creed, Jared?” The Master turned upon the lad, hissing. The jagged scar flashed once more in the flickering candlelight, and the sight made the young Knight cower in trepidation.
“Ma-master, the Creed says we are to protect humanity...” Jared replied, meek as a mouse.
“And are we not protecting humanity? Are we not protecting them from these traitors who deserted their calling?”
A chorus of “Aye” arose from the other Knights, whose heads were bobbing in support of the Master.
The Master’s booming voice rose to a feverish pitch. “Are we not doing mankind a service by removing all these dastardly elements? Purging these scum from the face of the earth?”
“Master…” Jared just gaped.
“Answer me! Are we not?”
Consumed with bloodthirsty rage, the Master stood up from his high backed velvet chair and pointed his staff in the lad’s face. “Answer me!”
“The-these Knights…the-they’re human too…”
“No one who leaves the Order is a Knight!” The Master jabbed his staff so vehemently into the air that Jared flinched, expecting his nose bridge to break from the blow. It didn’t.
A gust of wind blew and spirited the life of the candle away with a plaintive howl. The Knights were plunged into the darkness of midnight, the void of departed souls.
Only the rubies at the head of the Knights’ staves gleamed, refracting the colour of revenge.
Over the young Knight’s whimpers, the Master continued. His voice no longer boomed, but had a quiet maniacal intensity.
“No one is human.”
Image Source: Andre, Unsplash
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