x

The Purity of Sin

Three

Keith's hands were shaking in both anticipation and a slight thrill of fear. This was either going to work or it was going to backfire horribly.

He forced himself to take a steadying breath, willing the tremble to cease. He couldn't afford any extra movement. Not when luxite was entirely unforgiving and one wrong twitch would literally be the death of him.

He turned to face what he had determined was the Mackans version of a camera system and slowly raised his blade, shrunk back to carrying size, to his neck. And then very deliberately he pressed it against his flesh.

Immediately the blade tasted blood and he felt a trickle make its way down his neck to land in the collar of his undershirt. He made no other movement except to glare at the glowing orb, daring someone to stop him.

After thirty more ticks he pressed the blade once more flush and felt another warm trail descend.

His logic was actually pretty sound, he thought. The Mackans needed him alive so they could sacrifice him. If he threatened his own life they would have no choice but to react. And given the way he was holding the knife they couldn't be reckless in their attempts to subdue him as one wrong turn and they'd lose their precious sacrifice.

Keith's grin sharpened as the door to the chamber burst open and a single Mackan hurried in, paws already glowing with a purple light. This one appeared younger than the others and dressed in brown robes over the green or white. Perhaps a novice assigned to the boring task of guard duty, Keith surmised. Excellent.

"Careful," Keith smirked, although it was addressed more to himself as a reminder. "You wouldn't want to make me slip, would you?"

"Lower your weapon immediately," the Mackan growled, voice young, and Keith picked up the fear behind it and his smile widened. Got him.

"Lower the barrier," Keith replied.

In answer the Mackan's paws glowed brighter. Keith responded by pressing the blade even more into his neck, unable to hide the wince as more blood flowed.

"Stop!" cried the Mackan. "Don't do that!"

"Lower the barrier now," Keith demanded. "Or I swear I'll do it."

He could see the Mackan thinking, brow furrowed even as he kept his paws forward. Keith could even imagine the creature's thoughts as he often did the same when sizing up an enemy. If the Mackan lowered the barrier and moved quickly he could disable Keith and pull the knife away. His species gave him the advantage in terms of speed and strength and the addition of magic would solidify his position. Then, he could stall Keith until reinforcements arrived as no doubt someone else was already scurrying down.

Keith's expression turned near feral with delight as the Mackan gave a hesitant nod. "I will lower the barrier," he said. "Do not move, Paladin of Voltron."

Keith didn't bother that ridiculous comment with a reply. He remained still though as the barrier shimmered around him before it faded away, not trusting some trick. He honestly couldn't believe it had worked so well this far.

"Now hand over your knife," the Mackan ordered, stepping forward.

"Take it." And quicker than lightning he whipped the knife from his throat and at the Mackan.

The creature let out a yowl as the blade slammed into its chest, propelling it backwards across the chamber. Keith wasted no time, dashing forward and delivering a powerful kick to the bobcat's head that sent it crashing into the floor, unconscious.

Keith bent down and yanked the blade free, wiping the orange colored blood on the Mackan's robes with a grimace.

He converted it back into a sword then and hacked off a piece of said robes that were still clean and very quickly tied it about his neck, wincing at the sting of cloth against his self-inflicted injuries. But it had worked and that's what mattered.

And now it was time to save Lance.

"Hang on," he muttered, taking off through the wide open door and into the unknown. "I'm coming."

xxx

"Let us begin."

The declaration sent all of the Mackans into wild cheering while Lance could only squirm uselessly against the restraints, praying for some divine intervention. And not from their Lady Leora, no thank you. Preferably in the design of a giant fireball that wiped them all out and somehow left him alive, just like the extinction event he'd described to Keith earlier.

His body still ached with remembered pain of flames, but somehow he had awoken unhurt. Although waking up strapped to a giant stone table as a sacrifice really wasn't all that much better.

"We thank the Paladin of Voltron for his offering to our great goddess Lady Leora," the High Priest continued, the cheers silencing at the sound of his voice. "The Paladin of Voltron speaks the universal tongue and as a thank you for his great sacrifice we shall perform the ritual rites so that he may understand the glory that he will soon be."

Lance tried to speak, plead, around the rope gag once more, but his words were but noises. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say at this point, fear rending him inarticulate. He just knew this wasn't how it was supposed to end. If he had to go he had wanted it to be in a blaze of glory, protecting his friends, saving the universe.

He hadn't even gotten to say good bye. A sob wrenched up his throat. Not to his friends, not to Hunk… his dreams of coming home a hero, diving into his mamá's arms for the best hug of his life were over. His life was over. And what a terrible, terrible way to go.

"This Paladin of Voltron's body has been cleansed by the Fires of Sin," the white robed Mackan said, stalking about the stone table as Lance tried to keep him in sight, knowing it did no good but it gave him something to focus on. At least when death came he would see it.

"Now, it is time to cleanse the Paladin of Voltron's soul with the Purity of Sin so he might become an acceptable sacrifice for Lady Leora," the Mackan continued. "We of Macka subscribe to the fundamental belief that Sin must be eradicated in all of its forms: the Sin of Speech, the Sin of Sight and the Sin of Sound."

The Mackan may have been speaking so Lance could understand, but he could barely concentrate on the words over the fear gripping his heart. Dios, por favor he prayed, ayúdame. Por favor.

The Mackan raised his paws skyward. "Speaketh, seeth, heareth," he intoned.

"Speaketh, seeth, heareth," the assembled Mackans chanted back.

"Ladrás, maras, sentas," he called then.

"Ladrás, maras, sentas."

The chant built in intensity and Lance winced at the sheer volume, still somehow able to hear his own pulse beating wildly in his head. He pulled again on the restraints even though he knew nothing would gisve. But something in him said he had to keep trying, even if it was useless. He wasn't a quitter. There had to be some way out of this.

Every other tight situation he'd gotten himself into he'd always had help or a last minute rescue, like Keith saving him from the airlock when the ship had gone haywire. He'd thought that had been the most terrifying moment of his life, but this took its place easily now. He had never been so scared or felt so helpless.

Tears pricked his eyes, dripping down his cheeks as the chanting somehow still grew and his attempts went nowhere, only chaffing his wrists more. And then just like last time it cut off, Lance's ears ringing in the sudden silence.

The head Mackan approached Lance then, his paws glowing blue and extending all the way along the length of the blade, each jewel glowing with the same brilliance in the hilt.

"We thank you for your sacrifice, Paladin of Voltron," he murmured, and there was no hostility in his voice, but nor was there regret. This was just another sacrifice to them, Lance realized as his heart leapt into his throat. It was a part of their lifestyle, their culture. They did not want to kill him maliciously, there was no evil intent.

Somehow that made it worse.

He whimpered behind the gag as the Mackan forced his right hand to open from his clenched fist and placed the blade the full length of his palm.

"No," he tried to say. "Please. Stop."

"Ladrás novia mesto scolars," the Mackan said, voice a low growl. "Ladrás!"

Blue light exploded from the blade and Lance's scream was lost to the wave of noise as every single Mackan cried out "Ladrás!" and the word echoed over and over in the chamber. His hand was weeping blood, the knife not quite severing it but cutting deep enough to hit bone, while his throat felt like someone had just shoved liquid fire down it.

His vision was blurry with tears, but Lance could make out the head Mackan placing the bloodied knife against the table, head bowed in deference to the statue and murmuring, while the other Mackans continued their cry of Ladrás over and over, eyes glowing the same blue that had enveloped the knife.

And then he saw something. Something was different on the far end of the room, a form leaping high above the chanting and swaying Mackans. His breath hitched, but this time with a sob of relief. Keith. Keith was here.

He was literally using the Mackans as stepping stones, leaping agilely across them to cover the expanse in a matter of ticks and leaving confusion in his wake as those stepped upon came out of their near-trance, eyes fading back to amber.

Keith landed on the table with a thump, sword slicing through the ropes holding Lance's left leg and arm to the table and repeating the same slice on the other side. "Get up!" he yelled, desperation making his voice sharp as Lance weakly scrambled to sitting, hand crying out as it pressed on the rough stone.

Keith ended up yanking Lance roughly by his left arm and dragging him forward, diving back into the masses of Mackans that were realizing something was amiss and the chanting slowly dying away. Lance lacked Keith's natural grace to use the aliens as springboards, so he had no choice but to allow Keith to cut a path through the crowd, screams and yelps splitting the air as Keith's sword met flesh, stumbling behind.

The head Mackan had come out of his bow and was screaming now, although his words were lost in both translation and distance as Keith propelled them out of the crowd and into an offshoot of a hallway. They had no pursuers yet, but as soon as the Mackans reoriented themselves Lance knew they'd be in real trouble.

He tried to ask Keith were they were going, but the rope gag still held his voice in check. He couldn't even try to pull it off either as Keith had an iron grip on his left forearm and his right hand was still crying out in its own agony to where he knew he could not force it to pull the rough rope free.

It's not like it really mattered. Anywhere was better than where they came from. And not even a dobash later Lance could see sunlight streaming in from up ahead and he put on an extra burst of speed, nearly bypassing Keith, who let go of his arm in surprise.

"This way," Keith shouted, picking a path that led away from a series of stone arches that looked to go to a courtyard and instead headed towards never-ending plains and outcroppings of stone. Lance wasn't in any position to argue for the sake of picking the opposite and followed, left hand unsuccessfully trying to pull the gag free as they continued their sprint.

His feet started to ache shortly thereafter, sharp pebbles and rough stone digging into his bare flesh while Keith still in full under armor and footwear did not have the same hindrance. Lance risked a glance behind them as they plowed on, eyes widening at the dots of red that were staining the ground from both his feet and still freely bleeding hand.

He knew that the Mackans' hearing didn't appear to be anything special, but they did resemble bobcats and Lance knew that those had a keen sense of smell and their sight had to be halfway decent. All of this running was going to be for nothing if they just tracked them following a conveniently laid blood crumb trail.

Finally he was able to wrench the gag down over his lower lip and then off his chin so it pooled about his neck. "Keith, wait!" he shouted.

Or, well, should have shouted. No sound passed his lips.

Lance coughed to clear his throat, but even that noise was absent. His left hand flew to the base of his neck, panic starting to build as further attempts to speak, yell and even whisper were met with same haunting silence.

"Sin must be eradicated," he could hear the Mackan saying. "The Sin of Speech…"

No. No no no no no. He swallowed thickly, trying once more, screaming for Keith to stop but the smaller boy just kept going with no indication he'd heard anything.

"Keith!" he cried, throat aching at the attempt but still nothing. "Keith! Wait! Please!"

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Keith was getting further and further away, not noticing that Lance had practically stopped, left hand frozen against his neck. What did he do? What did he do?

Not panic, his brain told him, adding in a 'duh' for good measure. Okay, not panicking was great. How did he do that?

His mind helpfully suggested breathing exercises, meditation, counting backwards from one hundred and or curling up on the ground and rocking himself. Yeah, no, none of those were going to be useful right now while he was running for his life. Other than not panicking what should be maybe be doing?

Getting Keith to stop running would be a good start. He nodded. That was an excellent idea. Just how did he do that when Keith was well ahead by now and he clearly wasn't able to yell for him to stop? Lance looked around wildly for inspiration. He spotted one of the pieces of seaweed-coral plants and broke a piece off, shrugged, and then chucked with all his might.

His aim wasn't as good with his left hand, but it was good enough. He allowed himself a small smile; he was so the team's sharpshooter. The plant smashed into the back of Keith's shoulder and prompted the former Red Paladin to whirl around, sword sweeping in an arc that would have likely lobbed off the head of any Mackan.

Seeing only Lance he jogged over. "What the hell?" he demanded, voice a hushed hiss.

He spotted the blood droplets a few seconds later, eyes widening in realization. His own hand went to his neck, but the quickly made bandage he'd applied while damp was not dripping. His gaze dropped to Lance's feet and the blood trickling off Lance's long fingers to hit the ground with little plops and he winced in sympathy.

"We have to hurry," Keith said, shooting a nervous look past Lance for pursuers, who was in turn staring at Keith and strangely silent. "Take off your shirt; we'll pad your feet and get a bandage for your hand."

Keith turned back to Lance and watched as the boy's mouth opened and he distinctly saw his name uttered, but no sound came out. Lance did it again and Keith was alarmed to see tears gathering in ocean blue eyes.

"Lance?" he asked, slightly worried by the unusual silence. "What is it?"

Lance pressed his left hand to his throat and Keith zeroed in on the rope. "Enchanted rope?" he guessed, raising an eyebrow. "Come here, I'll cut it off." He leaned forward and the luxite blade responded to its master's wishes and shrunk.

The rope fell away and Lance tried again to say something, but still no words came out.

"We don't have time for this," Keith said, not unkindly but time was not something they had to waste. "We'll discuss it later. Shirt. Now."

Lance blinked back his tears, knowing that Keith was right and now was not the time to explain that apparently the Mackans had stolen his voice in their magic ritual. Besides, crying was not on his list of ways to stop panicking and he was pretty sure this was only making it worse. Still, he'd sort of been holding out to the slim hope though that something was just wrong with his hearing and he couldn't hear himself from all of the chanting, but Keith had shot that down immediately.

His voice really was gone.

He mechanically stripped out of the ill-fitting shirt, which had barely skimmed the top of his midriff and was apparently made for a much smaller subject. Likely one of their own, he thought bitterly. What a messed up culture.

Lance found though that he couldn't get a good grasp on tearing it and with an impatient sigh Keith pulled it from his hand, making several strips. "Hand," he said, balling up a piece and pressing it on the gaping wound, Lance hissing silently and jerking back. Keith didn't pause and tied it with another strip.

"Sit," he commanded and Lance did as asked, going none too gracefully down as his feet informed him they really, really hurt now.

Keith wrapped more of the shirt about each foot. It wouldn't be the most comfortable thing to walk on as it was rather bulky in the middle, but it had to be better than bare ground. Keith did feel a stirring of guilt that he hadn't even taken Lance's clothing condition (or lack thereof) into account before he'd started on his all out sprint, but really what else could he have done?

That done, Keith stuffed the remaining bit of cloth into the empty sheath holder that he now had strapped to his lower back as there was no way he was putting his sword away any time soon.

Keith lowered his hand for Lance to take and his fellow Paladin gave him a small, watery smile at the action, allowing Keith to pull him back to his feet. Well, the smile was better than the tears, Keith supposed, and he returned it with what he hoped was an encouraging one of his own.

"We came in on the northern side," Keith said, gesturing to the three suns that lit the planet. They had sunk in the sky quite a bit, but Keith could still pinpoint where they had begun. "We'll head for the Lions and then get the hell out of here. Let's go; they're going to be catching up soon."

Lance inclined his head and the two broke back into a run. His feet still ached with every smack on the ground, but it was infinitely better than before. And no blood trail to be seen.

Keith changed their trajectory a few times, often cursing under his breath as cliffs rose out from nowhere and forced them to go a good distance around. The half-Galran's breath was starting to come out in harsh gasps from the exertion combined with the heat, but Lance was still quiet.

He looked behind him as they scaled a small hill and Lance was clearly panting, sweat dripping down his forehead, but still not a sound. Keith's brow furrowed. He'd thought that Lance hadn't been able to speak due to some combination of fear and possible enchantment – and the word still made him shake his head – on the gag. But this? This obviously wasn't the result of words failing from terror. Magic? The thought made his neck prickle uncomfortably.

It didn't matter right now, he decided as Lance doggedly followed his handholds, blood already staining the hasty bandage and dripping down his arm. They just needed to get the Lions and they'd figure everything out then.

They kept up a steady clip for nearly a half varga more, but Lance was starting to flag and Keith's own legs and lungs were burning. He was honestly surprised Lance hadn't demanded they halt yet, and then realized with a start that Lance might not actually be able to if there was some weird magic affecting his voice. He cursed quietly at himself. A good leader should be keeping an eye on all of his team and adjusting accordingly.

"I recognize this, I think," he told Lance quietly, crouching down on the ground behind a small outcropping, allowing both of them to rest and he saw the relief in Lance's face as he near collapsed to his knees. "The Lions aren't much farther. Think you can make it?"

Lance opened his mouth, Keith saw the 'yes' form but again not even a whisper was heard. Lance swallowed thickly at that, left hand lightly touching his throat in a way that suddenly made him look, so, so young and scared. Keith hated it.

"Come on," he said brusquely to hide his own growing concern, standing up from his crouch. "We're almost there."

And several minutes later Keith was beyond pleased to note that his directional skills were not challenged as the Lions appeared around a bend. However…

A full contingent of Mackans were parading in front of the Lions, little groups of them spotting the ground from not even fifty feet of the two Paladins. Both Lions had put up their protective barriers and it appeared the Mackans had enacted some of the same, the familiar red enclosure that had kept both of them captive in the prison chamber.

Keith tried to reach out to Black from here, but it was like a literal wall was between their connection and he scowled at the glowing barriers. It was official. He hated magic.

"Come on," he repeated to Lance, backing carefully away from the ridge. "This isn't safe."

Lance pulled himself off the ground with a silent groan where he'd all but fallen when Keith had stopped.

He didn't want to move. He was exhausted and his feet hurt and his hand had not stopped aching and he just wanted to rest for a few minutes, but he recognized that Keith was trying to keep them both safe. Allura had said Keith had good instincts and Lance agreed. So despite his own pain he forced himself to follow to wherever Keith was headed now. He also noted that it might be a good idea to get back to training; all but Keith had slacked off now that Shiro was absent.

Keith led them back the way they had come and down an embankment to another set of cliffs that stretched for at least a good mile or so. They continued in silence, which had it been anyone else wouldn't have unnerved Keith the way it did with Lance.

He looked behind him at his companion, noting how Lance had both arms wrapped about his bare torso and was shivering slightly as sweat cooled in the evening air. The three suns were orange now on the horizon and it wouldn't be long until they disappeared entirely.

And unfortunately, Keith was realizing, this desert planet acted just as they did back on earth; beyond scorching during daylight hours and frigidly cold at night. Worse even, given the fact there were three suns beating down on it which would make it that much more cold when they disappeared. He still had yet to spot any type of water source and the only possible food was the weird seaweed plants, but they were so brittle Keith doubted they had much to them.

While he was rather comfortable in his under armor, Lance at this point was wearing only the pair of pants that the Mackans had bestowed, and due to his height they more resembled a pair of capris. Otherwise he had nothing and Keith felt a faint shiver of fear go through him at just how unprepared they were out here.

They kept going, but Keith finally had to call a halt as he heard a thump and turned to find Lance had stumbled over his own feet and faceplanted on the ground. Blood was leaking through the scraps tied about his feet and even from here Keith could see the lines up and down Lance's arm and chest where he'd been holding his hand.

"Come on," he said gently, more than he was aware he was capable of, and knelt next to Lance, who was struggling and in clear pain to get back to his feet. "We're just going to go… right over there," he nodded at a bend in the cliff face. It shielded them from anyone approaching from the direction they'd come from while giving them a clear line of sight everywhere else.

He slung a lanky arm about his shoulders and stood, pulling an unprotesting Lance up, whose feet were clearly hurting if the way he practically tiptoed forward was any indication. Keith felt another surge of guilt that Lance was so hurt while he was relatively unscathed, minus the own damage he'd done to his hands against the barrier and even that was more superficial than anything.

"There, sit," Keith said, lowering him against the wall. Lance tipped his head back, eyes closed and lines of pain etched into his features that no amount of bravado could wipe away.

Keith tried to control the sudden roll of his stomach. In that instant he was reminded too much of Shiro when he'd rescued him following the bad wormhole jump. Shiro had looked the same; pale and shaking while his hands covered the wound Haggar had inflicted. At least then they'd had Black and the emergency medical supplies stored inside of her until help had come. Right now they had nothing and that could kill them quicker than the Mackans.

"Stay here," Keith ordered, "I'm going to scout and see if I can locate a water source." He made to get up from his crouch, but Lance's left hand shot out and gripped his forearm with a surprising strength.

There was a sheen of panic swimming in his eyes and Keith sucked in a harsh breath at the vulnerable emotion that he had only seen once on Lance; back when he'd been trapped in the airlock and pounding on the glass as the timer behind him counted down the seconds till certain death. He shook his head to clear the memory away.

"We only have a little daylight left," he explained, although did not move to release Lance's death grip. "We need water and you're in no condition to keep moving. I'll be back in twenty dobashes tops, all right?"

Lance mouthed something then and it was too quick for Keith to pick up, but he did not miss the despair that crossed Lance's face as yet again no sound issued forth.

Keith wanted answers to that, but right now dehydration was a much more pressing concern after their several hour-trek across Macka in the insane heat. If they didn't solve that problem then it wouldn't matter that Lance had lost his voice because they'd both be dead from exposure. He still had no idea how to handle to dropping temperatures, but one thing at a time.

"I'll be right back," he assured, prying Lance's fingers from his arm. "I promise."

Lance frowned at him but then brightened ever so slightly and held out his left hand, littlest finger extended. Keith stared at it.

"What?" he asked, uncomfortable as Lance bobbed it up and down.

And for once he was glad that his lack of cultural norms was absent because the look of absolute feigned horror that changed Lance's face from scared to scandalized was a welcome sight indeed.

He tentatively held his own hand out in a similar fashion. He remembered reading somewhere that drinking tea with the pinky extended was considered high class, but he didn't think that's what Lance was going for. And nope, definitely not he decided as Lance pushed his hand forward and grasped Keith's pinky with his own, giving it a firm shake.

"Uh, what?"

Lance mouthed something at him. Keith tried to sound it out. "Pin…oh, pinky… swear? Pinky swear?"

Lance nodded, looking pleased. And while Keith did not understand the importance, it clearly meant something to Lance. So he nodded and shook their conjoined fingers. "Okay, pinky swear. I'll be back soon."

Only then did Lance release him, leaning back against the rock face with what should have been a tired sigh but only silence echoed around them. Lance realized it too if the downcast expression that took over his face meant anything.

"I'll be right back," Keith promised. "Just… hang tight."

He clambered to his feet, making a mental note of the cliff outline so he could find his way back. And before they could lose any more of their meager daylight, Keith hurried away.

Meanwhile, Lance gave another silent sigh and shivered, curling himself up into an unassuming ball in an attempt at self-comfort and to conserve heat.

And then he waited.

xxx

Author's Notes:

Whelp, things are both a little better and a little worse. Positives: No one is dead and they are currently free from the Mackans. Negatives: Lance is mute, he's hurt, exposure is super scary and deadly and the Mackans are preventing them from leaving. At least they have each other? Also, anyone else notice how each chapter keeps getting progressively longer? I am in trouble with that word count!

And as you all have come to see, I enjoy well rounded villains. Or, well, I suppose just antagonists here because the Mackans aren't really villain-y, you know? A little sacrifice happy and too quick to kill outsiders, but they're not doing it to be mean. It's just... how they do things. I hope you're enjoying them as much as I am!

Huge thanks to the reviewers who keep me going every week: Justanangryfangirl, hobbes101, Subtle Shenanigans, Oliviadbell, mandy raccoon, RavenNighwing42, Adrianna Agray, imagine forevermore, eyeore1994, Guest, momoluvr11 , Jennyfish26, wingedflower, BlueCookiesforRick, Alexa, violinworld, LishaChan, ShiroHichi891, PaintedWings45 and HetaRosFangirl!

A quick little announcement. Due to the Thanksgiving holiday coming up, Sin is going to be taking about a 1.5 week hiatus (I plan to update on the Monday following Thanksgiving and move to that update day for a little bit). Depending on the response to this chapter I may try to get a chapter up for y'all this coming Monday as well, but no promises. Thank you all for your understanding and I hope my fellow Americans have a lovely, relaxing Thanksgiving and everyone else has a relaxing week.

Please do drop a review below. Favorite part, line, questions, etc. Thanks so much!