-Bilial-
As the sun had just begun to rise over Hearthglen a robed and hooded figure ran through the streets, sprinting as fast as his haggard breathing would allow. The guards gave him passing looks, perplexed by the man wearing the colors of Brotherhood of Lordaeron being above so early into the day. Either way they didn't spend much time looking into it-- there were more cultist fliers to clean up, it seemed.
Soon enough Bilial would reach a home, pounding his fist on the door a few times to seek entry as his eyes scanned up and down the street behind him as he keeled over against the wall to catch his breath. He had made it. There were no others following—here he would be safe. Miss Greene had promised that. There was noise from within, and as soon as the door opened he practically threw himself inside, ducking around past a rather surprised woman as he fell back against the wall within.
“The door. C-close the door, before anyone else comes by,” he managed out through his harrowed breaths. Annabelle was quick to draw the curtains and lock up, before coming to face the disheveled man. He made an effort to explain what was happening—why he was here. In the end all he could give were sputtering attempts at explanations, slowly trying to compose himself. All he made out in the end was ‘thank you’.
“Good Light, what’s after you?”
“Nothing. Yet,” he managed, relaxing enough to formulate a better response,
“…Yet. But that will change as soon as one of them comes up from the sanctuary." With some hesitation he would draw some fliers from his cloak, offering them to her.
"I... Put these up. They'll hunt me for it. I know they will."
Annabelle reached out her hand to take the fliers, hesitant as the black color is spotted.
“Put these up...?” She stares at them, then pulls her gaze to him.
“You don’t mean...in the town do you? Bilial, who will hunt you? The Brotherhood? The cultists?”
“One and the same. They’re one and the same.” He answered quickly.
“They’ll hunt me, yes. They told me this was my last chance. So I… made the best of it.”
The ramifications to come were only now starting to set in. He drew himself down, cradling his head.
“I… Oh, Light.”
She frowned deeply in return, setting the papers aside. She scoots forward to grip his shoulders.
“Bilial, look at me. Last chance for what?”
"They said they would... kill me, if I worked against them again. The council docket. The... doctored fliers and the distraction on Monday. They know it was all me."
She blinks slowly once, then quickly takes him in a protective hug.
“I won’t let them. But--why haven’t you come forth to Commander Entari?” She inhales, many questions reeling in her head, trying to determine which were the most important to ask.
“I’ll go with you if you do, you know that.”
"It's... not that simple. They know things. They can... disprove it all. I've been in their company too long to think I can just..."
He just shook his head once more, letting out a haggard sigh. They spoke a while longer—though the time was not enough. No time could have been enough. He wanted to explain what they were—something to help her fight them, or just enough to make her run from this town and its impending doom. But he did not have the time. Fate wouldn’t allow it.
A knock came rapping at the door. “Apologies if we disturbed. We're here on behalf of the town guard. We need to speak with you, if you have a moment."
Guardsmen. He listened to their exchange, and heard what he knew was to come. “I understand you have a visitor from the Sanctuary within the estate? He is being sought for... conspiracy. Use of demonic magic, spreading of cultist doctrine and...”
There the world just seemed to go silent. Bilial recoiled in fear, keeping from sight of the door. His eyes scanned about, searching for anything around him that might help. His eyes landed on a potion. On a whim he took it, looking back as the guardsmen were let in.
“We will be sure to keep him safe, do not worry," chimed a guardsman. He found himself taken by the pair of soldiers, being shown out as he turned his sullen gaze downwards.
“Have faith. Whether you’re behind bars or not, I’ll aid you.”
He didn’t believe her. But the thanked her anyways, being half-dragged back to the sanctuary, and into a cell. When there the guardsmen deposited him in a lone cell, nodding to those guarding the prison and chatting to them before withdrawing back up to the keep.
Hours passed. He found himself somewhat… quaint in the isolation of the cell, keeping to a corner in silence. Once more though, the respite was a finite one.
“Ah, Bilial… There you are.”
Father Shol stood outside of the cell, bowing slightly to the guardsman on duty. “Evening, brother. If I might have a word with this man?”
“Of course, father. All is well, I hope?” asked the guardsman in return. After the pleasantries Bilial found himself led out, staring down at the hall beneath him as he was led though, back to the brotherhood’s cloister.
“You disappoint me, Bilial.” Eldin told him, stopping as they arrived at his cloister. He motioned for Bilial to set his things down, the man doing so silently, staring blankly at the elder as he did so. “We so graciously offer you our chances for redemption, and you return our gestures with more treason. You associate with… heretics. Have they corrupted you as well, now?”
“She’s not a heretic. She’s a priestess.”
“Yet she believes not in the Light. That is not a priestess, my son. That is a fiend who bends the Light to their will for their own gain.”
Bilial kept silent, flexing his hand as he sat against the wall, listening. Staring. Thinking.
Eldin turned, casting his gaze out to the courtyard. Bilial’s eyes moved as well, to the cot beside him.
“You’ve caused us so much grief, my son. But our time is near. Despite your misdeeds, our cause will triumph. Perhaps once your ‘friend’ lies burning in the day of judgment you will realize whom it is the Light truly has chosen.”
He paused, expecting a retort. “Have you anything to say before we begin your punishment?” he asked, drawing a hand down to his knife at his hip.
Still nothing. He furrowed his brow, turning. “You’ll speak to me when I ask for—“
And with that his voice was cut short. From the cot Bilial had drawn a blade—The one he had contemplated for his own life days ago. In one quick charge Eldin found the blade piercing his chest, twisted painfully immediately after as his body crashed to the ground. Bilial’s eyes were clouded with rage, tears pouring from his eyes. In a final display of anger he raised up a hand, a curse of pain wracking the body of the man beneath him. He wanted to see him in pain. He wanted him to
scream. He wanted him to feel the pain he had known for so many years.
He heard gasps. Cries. Footfalls. They were coming for him. Quickly he rose, drawing the potion he had absconded with from his bag and downing it. With a faint flicker of light his form faded, quickly dashing aside as members of the brotherhood rushed to aid their wounded patriarch.
Bilial ran, desperation overtaking him. He knew this wouldn’t last long. He knew the price of capture was death, now more than ever.
But, he was not surprised when he wound himself colliding with a materializing figure. He hit the ground with a groan of pain, a pair of faint, whispy shades coming into vision above him as those of the brotherhood caught up. Quickly he began to plead for mercy, seeing one of the ‘paladins’ lifting his warhammer up to end him—and for a moment he thought perhaps that he had lowered the weapon on his own volition. Out of pity, or something else. He could hear a woman’s voice after him though—
“Stop; You need not kill the man.”
“You said this was the last time.” The paladin said, peering back to the smaller feminine figure as she approached.
“It is. But I believe something else can be done with him. Something more… creative.”
Bilial just stared at her in silence, barely even flinching as she swung her stave down to knock him from consciousness.