Heresy in the Blood

“I was called.” The man finally spoke up after minutes of deafening silence. “What is the purpose of this?” He asked, staring up at the council of bishops, deacons, and other religious figures that rested above him on their pavilions.


“Yes…” One of the figures spoke up, clearing his throat. “We have called you here for a trial. We have recie-“


“Trial?!” The behemoth of a man roared. “What have I done wrong? Have I not served the light with great diligence?” He yelled to the council, his voice cracking ever so slightly in suppressed rage and hatred.


The church became deathly silent, not even the slightest sound being made in the building. The fanatic glared at the council, fierce hatred burning in his eyes with murderous intent.


“You have, yes. But this is what we have called you here for. You are filled with great zeal. A fire burns within you, yes, but this is no longer the fire of the light. This is the fire of hatred.” One of the council explained, his voice much younger than the previous’. “You have begun to do terrible things in the name of the light, things we can no longer accept.” He continued.


“AS?!” The fanatic screamed. “What have I done to deserve the ire of you all? You lot of heathens and heretics?!” He insulted, to which the council replied with gasps and hushed whispers.


"We are a church. We do not go around, killing whoever we see, even as corrupted or heretical as they might be. Your actions are abhorrent, and your lust for blood is something we cannot allow any longer." The eldest of the council expressed his disgust.


The fanatic was furious, his teeth ground against eachother, his fists clenched, and his odious gaze fell upon the elder. The man was at his breaking point.


How could this have happened? He asked himself. Have I not been faithful enough?


"HERETICS!" He screamed. "HERETICS! THE LOT OF YOU!" The man hollered at the top of his lungs. The cry echoed through the church, shaking the dusty, ancient chandelier that hung from the roof with its pure force. "I HAVE DONE NO WRONG! YOU ARE ALL CONSORTING WITH THAT CONNIVING ROACH, AREN'T YOU!?" He accused, pointing to each member of the council frantically and in a blind panic. "YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS ANCESTOR, THAT MOST VILE MAN! AND YOU CHOSE TO ASSIST HIM STILL!?"


"We chose to assist because we know what good he can do, and because of what good has already happened." The elder explained. "He shows promise and lacks the deviancy of his late relative." The old man continued, waving his hand dismissively at the fanatic. "The sins of the father are not the sins of the son. You should know this."


"I care not for your pitiful excuses!" The fanatic roared. "This is treason against God, you are all blind fools!" He spat on the ground.


The council whispered amongst themselves for a moment.


The elder cleared his throat. "You are to be excommunicated, effective immediately." He ordered. "You were such a good boy, it is a shame you grew up to be such a terrible man." The elder insulted, shaking his head. "Leave." He demanded.


The fanatic paused, letting the realization sink in.  He roared in frustration, letting out an anguished cry of annoyance, pain, and sorrow. He grabbed a nearby crucifix, a holy symbol of the light used to decorate the abbey, and tore at it with all his might, ripping the cross out of its fixture with a series of metallic groans and whines, along with the pinging of nails popping out of their positions.


Various gasps and cries of outrage spewed forth from the council, but by the time they had started talking to him, he was gone, slamming open the abbey doors and pushing a man in rather opulent armor out of his way, he marched towards the statue of the town's founder.


"THERE IS HERESY IN THE BLOOD!" He screamed for all in the town to hear. "AND I ALONE SHALL CLEANSE IT!"