Five hundred years later …
Cerulean blue gaze mourned the wasted sight of Havenbarrow. A town once bustled with its residents filling the streets from dawn to dusk. Now, candles lit every corner of the ruined buildings. Yet darkness swallowed these hopeless lights. The deafening hollow silenced the joy. Dried petals of white lilies were scattered on doorsteps. The abundant golden field lay wasted as every root and soil of the land succumbed to the touch of the abyss.
The Lumina Order could barely supply the people across the land. More who were in far worse condition didn't get the help they needed. Nothing to feed their family. It was only a matter of time before even hope disappeared.
Havenbarrow wasn't the last town buried in the darkest corner of Erdalia. As the abyss robbed pieces of their lands, the living soon lost their place.
Luther watched the ruined bodies walk into the remnant wreckage of a sanctuary. Naked, deliberately humiliated, in the eyes of the devil. Roof ripped away. A twin-wooden door stood alone amongst the remnants of the holy building. The blood of the servants painted on the wall told him stories of their ultimate acts.
Knights garbed in dark blue cloaks knocked on every door, guiding the remaining survivors of Havenbarrow from their home one by one. Clothes dangling on their dried and grimed flesh, barely protecting them. Hands chained in silver instead of getting the comfort they needed. They had nowhere to go. No hand to hold.
Luther crumpled on the scroll in his hand. Orders from the Lumina demanded the heads of Havenbarrow for condemning their faith. He thought it was a cruel judgment. With no one to guide these people, darkness becomes their new companion. To safeguard the living, the faithless must be executed.
He shut his eyes for a moment. As the silence set into his soul, voices from the sanctuary whispered to him.
They breached the bridge!
We mustn't allow the sinners to take Havenbarrow!
Shouts of their courage warmed his chest. Despite the overwhelming loss, his brethren never let their enemies shake their faiths. They fought to the very end well. It was their unwavering courage that kept this town away from the sinners' grip. Countless sacrifices for one insignificant victory.
Soon, fear tested their faiths. Wailing cries replaced the shout of their unwavering bravery. They begged and prayed the heaven for salvation from the fear gripping their hearts. One by one. Their faith crumbled into fickle dust. They exchanged their faith for mercy as they desperately clung to their lives. In the end, they damned their own faith to the abyss. A living without a shadow. It was only right to kill them before they lost their humanity completely and rampaged on the innocent to offer more souls to the abyss. They kept the Havenbarrow safe, yet the enemies won the victory of their hearts. Shredded white-blue robes and cloaks hung on flagpoles. Their belief flaunted in such a humiliating state to the people. A message for Erdalians. Here lies your loyalty to the light — hopeless and futile.
A hand tapped on his shoulder. "We've gathered everyone here."
Luther gave him the scroll. The knights gathered the people inside the circle, forming a prison. He noticed the detesting gazes of his knights. They avoided meeting the gaze of the people who once trusted their faith to them. A shame to their oath for failing to stop their own people from falling onto a faithless's path.
A white bandage wrapped his mouth, sealing his own voice from being heard. Luther signed to Vincent. Execute them.
Vincent bowed his head, hiding his face. His voice came out shaking. "As you command, captain." He proceeded forward with the scroll and read out its content. "For condemning your soul to follow the path of the faithless. Assisting the rebels in overthrowing the Order. The high priest of Lumina, Lord Zarden, decreed an order for the execution of Havenbarrow."
The knights drew their swords out. Hands trembled and eyes shut, to the horror of their own duty. Meanwhile, the faithless remained calm. Their hands clasped in prayer. Who were they praying?
The heaven's gate was closed tonight. Soon the black curtains would reveal the accursed blood moon. One of the seven sinners returned to devour the light once more. An omen fated to repeat every five hundred years. A fate doomed to happen no matter what.
Luther raised his hand, ready to give out his order at any moment. Until an elderly man raised in front of him. A chief of Havenbarrow. The first person who greeted Luther and his knights upon their arrival. His eyes were soot dark after he renounced his faith and became faithless. To pledge one's loyalty to the abyss, they lose the light in their eyes that once saw colorful wonders of life.
Vincent blocked the chief from getting closer. "Please sit down. For your sake, we'll make it quick," Vincent pleaded.
The chief smiled. "I only wished for the luminary of voice to listen to our last prayer before you thrust the Heaven's will upon us."
"No—"
Luther held Vincent back. He stepped forward to the chief.
"We never abandon our faith in the Heaven's will. We don't regret our choice; it was Heaven's will."
"Blasphemy! Why would Heaven wish you to be a slave of the abyss? The voice you heard is a devil. Those rebels feed you nothing but lies!" the knight shouted.
"Yes, a weak mortal such as me would never hear the Heaven's will. Only you possess this gift. Luminary of Voice. Yet, the Heaven have shown us the fate of Erdalia."
Bloody moonlight spilled onto the land. The smile of the chief widened. Black, inky tears flooded his eyes. The people of Havenbarrow gasped in awed. They bowed to the moon with their hands clasped tighter. Luther wanted nothing but to cut down the accursed moon sitting on the throne of heaven. A mockery to stand among the Gods.
"They spoke of truth. You have the light, but what light do you serve?" the chief commented, pointing at Luther. "You do not serve the Heaven's will. It's only a matter of time before that light faded."
They? Luther wished to ask if not for his luminary's burden. Mouth bounded and sealed. He listened to the voices while his own voice was silenced.
"Captain, please give us the order. We should not delay this anymore."
Luther drew his own blade out, placing it on the chief's neck. The chief held the blade. Black blood oozed out of his palm. Luther stared into the elderly's eyes. He wasn't looking at a mortal but at a demon itself. Luther waved his hand down, signaling his order. Blades swooshed down from the Heaven. Blood spluttered everywhere and pooled into a puddle. The chief was the last one standing. Luther struck his sword down into the chest and watched the body fell to the pool of blood. The knights were heaving breaths and stumbling away from the corpses. Hands covered in the blood of their kin. Some stared blankly at the soot, black, lifeless eyes.
Suddenly, a pillar of crimson flame rose from the ground nearby. The ground shattered by the impact. Luther watched the pillar kept on raising until it touched the sky, parting the black clouds away. Everyone held onto one another before the wind swept their feet off from the ground. Skin dried out and cracked as fluid seeped out of their bodies. A bell chimed inside his head. Heaven delivered its will to him.
A scarlet butterfly returns once more.
A flap of its wing will sweep away the land into a wrathful flame.
Hear, O Child of Light, and obey.
Seek the scarlet butterfly.
Let the judgment hour begin.