In this Best of all Possible Worlds
It was the most intense heat that Karal had felt in his life, burning a road through his mind, tearing away his hope of a future even as his closeness to Vkandis Sunlord made him not care. He would act as a Channel and save the world from the mage storms. It did not matter if he failed to survive, for if he failed to try, no one would survive.
Karal could feel the presence of Vanyel, the legendary Demon Rider, the great and powerful enemy of Karse in the agent Lore, flowing through his mind, and the presence of his life-bonded Stefan/Tylendel, and he forgot his fear of them as the melding of minds left him with no doubt as to who and what they were.
Meanwhile, there arose, in the midst of this vast heat, the long-term musings of the Sunlord Vkandis, who had only wanted the best for many people, but who had had to endure centuries upon centuries of pointless, brutal, bloody war between Valdemar and his own adopted land of Karse, his adopted children the Karsites having committed atrocities in his name, unable to hear Him.
And in this moment of history, with the man most Karsites feared as the Demon Rider intimately inhabiting the mind of his best Sunpriest, Karal, it occurred to the Sunlord Vkandis that he could do one better than simply preventing the destruction of the world through the mage storms. He could prevent centuries of bloodshed. He could stop the corruption of Karse itself, before it happened. And so the God picked up Vanyel, picked up Tylendel, picked up Karal, and set them at the edge of the conflict. Back when Vanyel was Demon Rider. Back in the front of the Great Karsite Wars.
"What shall we do with them, 'Lendel?" Vanyel asked, gesturing to the Karsite prisoners that had been taken after the latest skirmish. His lover, whom in this universe had never yielded to the temptation for revenge, was still his guide, whom he turned to for everything. Even the gentle prodding open of his potential gifts, which had eventually led Yfandes to Choose him, and brought him out of the thumb of Lord Within, many years before.
"They'll be tried under the Truth Spell," Tylendel replied. "And those who participated in the slaughter of the Gifted will pay for their crimes."
The Karsites had come to believe that the Gifted were evil; they rounded them up as youngsters and put them to death, calling them demons, as stubborn as they were bloody. Superstition had turned these men into child-killers, and the women, if not in the forefront, held the same beliefs.
A single spell bound all of the men that had been left alive on the field after the mage blast, and Vanyel set them up one by one in a spelled prison. All were dressed for battle, covered in blood, fighting the binding spell, their lips moving as they mouthed enraged curses.
"Did you kill any Gifted persons, by capture outside of battle, in Valdemar or Karse?" Tylendel intoned, holding the blue light of the Truth spell above the first ones' head. The man gave a gruesome list; by the law of Queen Elspeth he was sentenced to death. The next man beside him was younger, more human-seeming. His list was smaller. His death sentence burned Vanyel to the core. "It should not have been this way," he whispered to his lover. "He was not born an evil man."
Vanyel used his magic to lift a young man of around 19, one who was limp and unconscious. Roused by the spell, Karal opened his eyes for the first time in this new world into which he had been thrown – and could not see.
"Where am I?" Karal asked. He felt washed in light, like he had gone through his ritual of purification a thousand times. Like Vkandis was holding his hand. He couldn't see, but he wasn't afraid.
"You have been captured by the Heralds of Valdemar in battle, Karsite," Tylendel said. "And we need to know now whether you are responsible for any deaths outside of battle."
Karal immediately thought about the mage storms, his acting as a Channel, everyone trying to prevent the magical backlash from destroying the entire world. "I hope I am not," he said. "I hope I will never be. In battle or out of it."
"A likely story, Karsite," Tylendel said. You were on the field with the rest of them. "Wait for the Truth Spell, Van." He could see the doubt and sympathy forming on his lover's face. "You can never trust a Karsite."
"Van – Vanyel?" Karal said. "They used to call you Demon Rider. I mean, when I grew up." He spoke without fear. He knew the man was selfless, brave, would never in a million years consort with demons. He had felt him in his head, after all.
"You must speak the Truth," Tylendel intoned, as the blue light of the truth spell rose over Karal's head.
"And yet you are not what they thought you were. You are life-bonded. You are full of love. I wish that everyone could be." Karal started to cry. For all that he loved Natalie, it was not a sexual love. It never would be. They were awkward. They would always be too far apart.
He stood up and began to walk towards the pair of Heralds, guessing where they were by their voices, without sight. "Did it work? Did we survive the storm?"
"Don't move. You are still a prisoner, for now, even if you committed no crime. Listen to my question and stay still. Did you slaughter anyone outside of battle?" Karal had not yet answered his question under the spell.
"Of course not. I never would. I'm a Priest of the Sunlord Vkandis. I would never, never – no matter what. Never."
They put him aside in the corner of the room, where he lay still and suffering as he heard the others, one by one, confess to and pay for their crimes.