10 A New Name and Master

I gulped as the enchanted doors swung open, revealing a large and spacious chapel. Towering windows lined the walls from the back wall to the front, giving a panoramic view of the gardens and training grounds several stories down. A crystal chandelier, glistening with glowing gems, hung from the vaulted ceiling thirty feet above us. The first half of the room was filled with empty wooden pews, spaced evenly apart and providing for perhaps two hundred worshipers. A podium, raised several feet above the pews, took up the entire far side. It was empty save for an alter-like dais in the center. Several white-robed clergies surrounded three figures beside the dais. I immediately pierced their ranks and found the Sun Hero, clad in his gleaming armor and wearing a sheathed sword. The Father was in deep discussion with him, joined by another man I didn't recognize. The third was dark-haired and a bit overweight, dressed in lavish robes and wearing a bejeweled crown. I shivered as he alone noticed our arrival, and stared at me with hard eyes. He gave off an imperious air, and I felt like an ant beneath his boot. As Revera announced our presence, the hero and Father fell silent, turning to look at us.

"I've brought the filthblood," Revera said, pushing me forward.

I winced as she used the slur. The priestess had never been kind, but she'd avoided saying anything derogatory. At the same time, however, her tone was devoid of maliciousness, and she sounded flat and uninterested.

The imperious man's face took on a twinge of disgust as my tail swept about nervously. "Bring her forward."

Guided by Revera, I walked through the pews and arrived before the dais. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip bearing extraordinary strength and pushing me to my knees. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I timidly bowed my head as three pairs of eyes scoured my soul.

"This is the one who made the magic crystal resonate?" The imperious man asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

'Of course," the hero said, folding his arms confidently.

The Father glared at him but quickly smoothed his expression. "Indeed, Your Holiness. I too wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been there."

"I see. You, demon, what is your name?"

I looked up and flinched at the callousness in the man's eyes. Stumbling over my words, I said, "R-Rachel, I think."

"You stand before the His Holiness, the Pope himself! Lower your head!" the Father screeched, making me duck my head again.

"Father!" The hero said crossly. "Have a little dignity and treat her with respect."

"Respect for a filthblood? I'd neve-"

The Father fell silent as the Pope stretched out his hand. "Enough. What's done is done. The gods must have a reason for this great injustice." He returned his gaze to me. "Rachel, is it? What a strange name, and none too fitting. If you wish to serve at the Hero's side, you must bear an appropriate name to do so."

A new name? I hesitated for a long time, unsure of what to say. Rachel was the sole thing given to me by my mother, shortly before she abandoned me. It was the only thing tying me to the world of my past. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad thing to let it go. A new name for a new life.

"... I understand."

As I agreed, his lips curved up into a slight smile. I regretted agreeing so quickly. That was not the smile of a friend. "Then you shall be known as Xiviyah."

"Xiviyah?" I whispered, struggling with the strange pronunciation. It didn't sound so bad, but I grew concerned as I saw the wide grin on the Father's face.

"An excellent choice, my Lord," he said gleefully.

"Now then, let us engrave the slave crest," The imperious man said. "Revera, the wand."

Revera cleared her throat, bowing her head respectfully. "Your Holiness, I've already accomplished the preparations. All that needs to be done is the blood binding."

The Pope's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you for your diligence. Which crest did you engrave?"

"I used the Soul Binding, Your Holiness."

"Well done indeed!" For the first time, the imperious man sounded pleased. "Then we can proceed. Solistair, are you sure you would like to move forward with this demon kin as your slave? All that is required is someone from the fallen beast nation."

"Of course," the hero replied. "I will choose no other."

Revera bid me stand and we ascended to the dais. The hero welcomed me with a smile and motioned for me to stop before him. His warmth stilled my shaky legs and strengthened my spirit, and I offered a half smile back. His eyes were so gentle and deep, drawing me in and almost-"

"Father, begin," The pope commanded.

I quickly bowed my head to hide the pink stain on my cheeks. What was I even thinking? I was to be his slave, not a lover!

The Pope gestured to the Father, who began chanting in a loud voice. The words were harsh and echoed around the room, joined by several circles of glowing runes. I gasped as the fiery lines on my chest blazed with light, shining brightly through my dress. Pain surged from the crest, scorching through my body. Paralyzed with pain, I barely noticed as Revera slid my sleeves off and pulled my dress down, revealing my chest to the men before me. As the Father chanted, the symbol began to pulse, growing brighter and more painful with every flash. As it grew nearly unbearable, I groaned and bit my lip to keep from crying out, feeling the hot tang of blood on my tongue.

"You can do it," The hero said, eyes full of concern. I nodded and clenched my fists. I could do this.

Through brimming tears, I saw him draw his sword and raise it high. The blade was covered in golden runes, each shining like with the light of the noon-day sun. Without so much as flinching, he scraped the edge along his palm and clenched his fist, squeezing blood from between his fingers. I flinched as he reached out and placed his hand on me, smearing the blood between my breasts. The blood gathered into scarlet beads over the crest and sunk into my flesh. I screamed and dropped to my knees, unable to bear the pain any longer. As I writhed in agony, the hero knelt beside me and embraced me, cradling my head against his shoulder. I clung to him tightly, clawing against his back and sobbing. After an eternity, the pain faded and I managed to control myself. He drew me to my feet, releasing me only after I could stand on my own.

"Is it done?" I asked, sounding just as broken as I felt.

The Pope cleared his throat. "Congratulation, Solistair, on your first slave. Now, as we discussed."

The hero cleared his throat and looked into my eyes. His eyes flickered as though he were struggling with something. After a few breaths, his shoulders sagged, though his face showed nothing but resolution.

"Xiviyah, I command you to follow me diligently, to never act with harmful intentions toward myself and the church, and obey any command given by the same. Should you act contrary to these commandments, the same punishment you just experienced will be given out once more."

I bowed my head, clasping my hands together. "I understand. I will serve you with my life."