Prologue

Immolation

The fire casted long shadows on the cold stone walls. Darkness gathered in the crevices between the fifty rings of raised benches that encircled the raised dais. The eyes of the audience were blinded by the flickering light of the roaring pyre, but that did not matter. Their participation was merely a formality.

Lord Mesto stood alone upon the altar. This had once been the grand cathedral of the Church of Solaris. Now it was Mesto's theater. The pyre burned beside him, its embers scorched his fur and he sweltered beneath the heat of his thick wool cloak. His discomfort was trivial and a necessary burden. The fire needed to be hot, it needed to be felt from the highest rafters.

Mesto breathed in the smoke and gazed upward into the crowd. Only the faint glimmer of their eyes was visible in the gloom. It would have been easy to picture that he was alone as the only sign of life in the audience was faint shifting. He could not even hear their breathing and he wondered if they feared breathing too loud. The thought strengthened him.

His eyes darted to the left as a shadow moved. A green light sprang to life, flashed once and then faded. Mesto closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It's time. Mesto strode forward and threw open his cloak. When he spoke, his voice echoed with unnatural magnification. "Flame. The former symbol of power and sovereignty." Mesto's gaze swept the audience. He could feel their discomfort and their squirming. It made him feel good. Righteous triumph swelled in his chest.

"For thousands of years our people were deluded by false promises. Blinded by light, we plunged our heads into the dirt. Ignorance made us crawl on our knees and call the Bright Lords kings and gods. For a mere taste of power we exchanged our souls, and whenever we tried to lift our heads and establish ourselves we were thrown down. Glorious prosperity was denied us, stolen from us, because of our presumption. The Flames of Disaster swept away our pride and left us as mongrels, burdens on the land. Twisted by betrayal we thought it a virtue to play in the mud while other peoples advanced."

Mesto paused to catch his breath. His heart was thumping widely in his chest. He could taste the rage, the silent indignation in his audience. They hated him, they hated him with every fiber in their being yet they dared not speak. Mesto drank their fear and became drunk on their impotence.

"Our priests fed us from the breast like children and never allowed us to grow. So great was their fear and cowardice of the great flame, that instead of naming it their enemy and waging war against it they fell on their knees and praised it as their god. What use was there in struggling against it?"

Mesto reached into his cloak and drew out a Sol Gem. Its heat burned his hand and its pink rays nearly blinded him as he held it aloft. "Behold the result of defiance. Behold the key to our liberation." The light of the gem revealed the first few rings of the audience. Mesto saw faces transfixed by fear and apprehension.

Feet scuttled behind him and two servants knelt at his feet. One held aloft a mechanical glove, the second helped put it over Mesto's hand. It fit perfectly and Mesto felt immensely powerful as he flexed his fingers. He turned his wrist over and inserted the Sol Gem into the open groove. The glove reacted instantly. Mesto's fingers wiggled as a pink light shone like a spark of a small sun. Bolts of pink lighting shot out of his fingers causing the audience closest to the dais to scream and jump back.

Mesto's arm shook violently. Waves of hot pain coursed up his shoulder but Mesto gritted his teeth and ignored it. "For time immemorial we have been held back. Our delusions held us in binds, but no longer. Our emperor, our sovereign king, has given us the chance to liberate ourselves." Mesto made a fist and the Sol Gem stabilized. "The rest of Arvana has united beneath his banner, grateful for his liberality and magnanimity. Yet we of District Thirteen have clung to our chains. Peace, plenty and the power to subdue the universe is offered to us, but our priests and elders urge us to return to the plow and to slavery."

There was a loud bang as a door was thrown open. Boots marched up the dais. A dozen armed imperial guards drug a grizzled feline and dropped him at Mesto's feet. The prisoner was in rags and lay in a crumpled heap, unable to stand. Mesto smiled. "Behold, those that would return us to the past. The splendor of the emperor's future frightens those that have long been in darkness." At a wave from Mesto, the guards picked up the prisoner. The face of Leon, the former High Priest of Solenna, was hardly recognizable. Mesto's inquisitors had plucked the whiskers from his formerly noble mane. He looked shrunken and contemptible, with no trace of venerable wisdom.

"This pretender stood upon the pulpit and fed our people lies. He would have us submit to the flames that had kept us down and indolent. Our emperor has washed away his lies and brought us the truth. God is power. By our emperor's decree we shall have a new order of priests who understand this truth. The old must be burned away." Mesto nodded and the guards began their task.

The former High Priest remained still and quiet, perhaps hoping to die with some quiet dignity of courage. That failed him when he saw the black stone chains. He paled and tried to drop to the floor but his handlers kept him up. "No….please…no…mercy!"

Mesto's laughter drowned out the pleading. He felt lighter than air and stronger than steel. With the Sol Gem in his hand, and the power of life and death at his disposal, Mesto felt euphoric. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. Mesto recalled the day that the same High Priest had barged into his governor's office. Leon had berated Mesto, decried his policies and treated him like vermin. That was not unusual for Mesto. Born in the slums, Mesto knew what it was like to be treated with scorn and apathy. Even as he rose up the social ladder there were always those a bit higher than him who turned up their noses.

But those days are over now. Mesto opened his eyes and took a deep breath. Leon was held down by the black stone chains. The chains were made of a unique metal that burst into billowing flames at the slightest spark. Leon and the other priests had long made use of it in their ceremonies. With the emperor's permission, Mesto had repurposed them for his own uses.

Leon's feet were bound together and his arms were outstretched, ensuring that he was both uncomfortable and incapable of escape. "It is said the priests of Solaris can withstand incredible temperatures, that fire itself is the servant of the royal family." Mesto said with sarcastic relish.

Leon shook his head and whimpered. Tears streamed down the priest's face. Mesto could feel the tension in the crowd behind him. Their rage meant nothing, their aborhance had no meaning. Mesto was in control, he could not even see the faces of his accusers. A crazed smile spread across his face as he raised his gloved hand. "Let us put that to the test!" Bolts of pink lighting shot out of gloves fingertips. They struck Leon's chains, igniting the black stones. In seconds, the High Priest was enveloped in a cocoon of raging fire. Its heat completely swallowed the natural fire beside it. The guards leapt away, and Mesto could hear the shuffling of the retreating crowds, but he did not move.

The Sol Gem shielded him from the worst of the fire, and Mesto relished the heat against his face. He raised his arms to the heavens and prayed. "I offer this sacrifice in your name, Lord Robotnik, the Monarch of the Sun, and the King of the Cosmos!"