Somewhere lost to memory. Circa 3000 BC.
Methos woke up with the beams of sunlight that had landed on his eyes. He stared left at the dark breasts of the woman he had slept with. Samir had introduced her to him a few months ago. She was not young, but neither was he. She had lost her man in a battle twenty years ago, and needed, like he needed, someone to calm down the desires of the flesh.
A sensation of dread hit him, concomitantly with the feeling buzzing within him. Immortals. Not any immortals, though. Methos jumped from the bed and put on his clothes. Then he picked up the broadsword Samir had given him and stormed out.He began to run restlessly towards Samir's house. The day had come. After three years, the outlanders had arrived to take the head of the Heretic. The sensation was so different, so horrid, compared to that of other immortals that he felt scared as never before.
He reached the residence and it was empty. He heard the clatter of swords not far, stemming form the end of the city.
There he found them. Samir was in the middle of a fight with a stranger he would later know as Logozz. The hunter, dressed in a black tunic, was coping well with Samir. The heretic feinted left yet struck right, aiming at his opponent's neck. Logozz ducked and impaled Samir against his sword.
"Samir!" Methos cried.
Logozz removed his sword from the heretic's body and turned evilly to him. "You shall not interfere!"
"Don't... hurt... him, Logozz." Samir gasped from the floor. "Take me... to her... let him... witness..."
Logozz hid his weapon and moved away. Methos went to help Samir, whose wound was healing. He helped him up and saw a face of relief in the heretic.
"What... happens?" Methos asked bewildered.
"Let's follow him, Methos."
Samir and his apprentice went slowly behind Logozz, who treaded with determination towards the desert. The heretic seemed relaxed and resigned to meet death.
"Why didn't he...?"
"It is not his duty to do so." Samir uttered simply.
"And whose...?"
"All the answers you will have, Methos. In due time."
A new buzz rang in their heads. It was very powerful and strange, and it gave Methos the creeps. A figure he made out in the distance. As they drew nearer, he realised it was a woman. Not any woman. Her hair was the whitest he had ever seen, her skin was the hue of sand, and her eyes were the colour of the clear sky.
"Here they are, my beloved Charon." Logozz mused. Methos observed how he approached and fused in a kiss with that gorgeous woman, a kiss which fuelled the feeling known as envy for the first time in him. The woman broke roughly, and motioned Samir towards her.
"Whatever happens now, Methos, don't interfere. You will have your answers soon... but I can tell you this now..."
Samir told something to Methos. The apprentice's face stretched into puzzlement and disappointment. Samir patted his shoulder before heading towards the woman. He grinned in acknowledgment at her – a gesture which was not returned - and knelt.
She extended left her arm. Logozz produced from inside a rustic bag a silver broadsword and carefully placed it in her palm, delivering a quick stroke with his thumb before he retrieved his hand. As the blade touched the sand, Charon balled her hand around the hilt so strongly Methos thought she would break it. She scowled darkly at Samir before the sword rose as lightning toward the skies and landed fatally on his neck.
Methos had wanted to look away. He had wanted to cry. But no emotion could outpass the curiosity he felt for seeing what would occur now.
She knelt to receive the power. Blue and black bolts of lightning struck her magnificently. Her body soared and a whirlwind of fire was formed around her. She screamed, first in agony, then in pain, finally in horror. Methos heard suffocated screams belonging to probably dead immortals, given voice by the power and knowledge unleashed, and he dared not think what she, as the epicentre of the quickening, would be hearing. It was over sooner than Methos could realise. She fell but remained on the sand, her face sunken amid her hands, her fists clenched. Faint weeps could be heard, her weeps.
"My beloved..." Logozz stammered. "What...?"
Charon suddenly arched over and let out a shriek of utmost defeat to the skies. Methos couldn't suppress a grin that contrasted with the tears that fell from his eyes. Logozz moved to her hesitantly and tried to help her to her feet. She pushed him away as an enraged beast.
"Many lifetimes ago, a tribe of nomads lived here. One of them was a shaman." Methos approached, speaking calmly and mercilessly enjoying the moment. "He blessed the ground where the city is and at least a thousand steps around it... including this spot we're in."
Logozz gaped in horror at this young immortal mocking them. He drew out his broadsword and shrieked, willing to send Methos to the afterlife.
"Logozz, don't." Charon spoke. Methos stood in amazement. Her voice was soft and clear; a beautiful melody. He wondered how such a lovely voice could belong to such a ruthless being. "I must pay the price... and in this young man shall I dwell."
Logozz restrained himself, not without effort. Charon stood up and started to walk into the desert, long enough to be far away from holy ground. In resignation, Logozz went after her. So did Methos, who believed he was beginning to grasp the notion of what would happen.
-----
Some time later, deep in the emptiness of desert and surely away from holy ground, she halted and went down on her knees. Logozz did likewise, while Methos observed. The lovers kissed briefly and she pushed him away.
"Methos!" Charon called. He approached, scrutinised by Logozz' bitter scowl. She handed him her sword, which, he noticed, presented a silver skull with wings in her hilt. He had expected to feel some strange power, but only found the weapon lighter than it seemed, if still heavy. "Are you willing to fulfil your destiny?"
The question struck Methos as ununderstandable. However, something fuelled him to reply. "I am."
"For centuries, some mortals have been given a second chance to live for eternity. That new opportunity is subject to their abiding by the only true rule that limits our existence. Holy ground must be respected, as a sing of gratefulness to the Higher One that allowed us immortality. Logozz and I have roamed the lands looking for those heretics that dared breaking it. It was my duty to be the Death of the Heretics... and now... it shall be yours."
"I...understand." Methos mumbled.
"Logozz will aide you like he aided me. He will continue to be the Hunter." Charon's voice went stiffer. "Now do it."
Methos put up the golden broadsword above his head. He stared at that woman for an instant, trying to figure out what would happen if he took her head. He closed his eyes as he struck forward, soon to find out.
He heard the dim noise of the head hitting the sand and dropped the sword. He opened his eyes and noticed Logozz glaring at him, motionless as a statue. Then the skies darkened and a strange flash of light arose from the dead body.
Methos felt squeezed by power. Red and green bolts hit him as a whirlwind of sand started to twist around him. A massive force of knowledge blasted his head as the quickening spun him around. He screamed and was deafened by his own voice. He found himself soaring, being struck by unfathomable powers. He lost notion of time, overcome by Charon's quickening.
After an immeasurable period, He fell hardly against the sand. His nose probably broke but it healed soon. He looked up, struggling to make his body work. A shadow covered the light. It was Logozz, standing before him with his sword in hand. Methos feared for a second only. Charon's knowledge let him know that he wouldn't do it. He painfully rose and stared respectfully at Logozz.
"What shall I do now?" He realised Logozz wasn't looking for an order, but for advice.
"Sleep, Logozz. Until another heretic dare roam the earth, you and I shall not meet again." Methos discovered his own voice had been changed, and charged with the seed of an element that would evolve within him in the following years: darkness.
Logozz nodded and turned. Methos watched him walk away despondently, with his weapon in hand. He didn't know where he would go, and he didn't care. At one moment, Logozz halted.
"You'd better fulfil your duty, Methos." The voice sounded bitter and hard. "Or a lifetime of pain won't be enough."
Methos was struck by the phrase and didn't notice when Logozz disappeared. It was done. It had become his eternal duty to eliminate all those who dared breaking the rules. He would find them and behead them, regardless of where they were or where they hid. Heresy would be unforgiven and punished. To all the heretics, he would mean Death.