Barkscratch kept pace with Eric, while Elle had started riding on the bear’s back a few miles back.
“Tell me, Barkscratch,” Elle asked, her voice full of childlike curiosity, “what’s your favorite food?”
With a soft, gentlemanly voice, Barkscratch replied, “I love berries the most,” he said, licking his lips. “Some days, I enjoy fish from the lakes and rivers. But yes, berries are my favorite. What about you, little one?”
Elle thought for a moment. “I like fish… and I like berries the best too!” She paused, then added with a grin, “Maybe I’m a bear too, Barkscratcher! Roaw!” she growled playfully.
The child and the bear both laughed.
Eric, however, was not sharing in the fun. He glanced sideways at the creature. “So… what’s stopping you from, you know… eating us?” he asked. It was a valid question—and one that had been on his mind since they left.
"That's a rude question, Mr. Eric," Elle said, crossing her arms in front of her.
Barkscratch chuckled. "That is not a rude question, little one," the bear said. He turned to Eric and continued, "Winterfawn has asked me to bring you two to River Hallow. Also, unlike some of my cousins, I’ve never had a taste for humans."
"Humans taste yucky!" Elle said with a firm nod.
Barkscratch laughed. "I've never actually tasted one, but I think I’d agree—they probably taste yucky."
The news of humans being considered “yucky” didn’t exactly put Eric at ease. "Do you know how much longer until we get there?"
"We’re almost there, Mr. Eric," the bear replied. "I started smelling more yucky people a little while back—right after we passed the last oak tree."
"Okay, stop!" Eric shouted, the stress of everything they’d been through finally boiling over. "I need to know what is going on!" he yelled, collapsing to the ground.
Barkscratch turned around, his expression softening. "Are you okay, Mr. Eric?" he asked, his voice full of genuine concern.
Eric's arms began to tremble. "No... I’m the furthest thing from okay. I’m in the woods with a talking bear. We were chased by people I knew. We met some magical woman!" His voice cracked as tears began to stream down his cheeks. "And I... I drowned my... my own mother."
Barkscratch gently let Elle down from his back. She walked over to Eric without hesitation and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Eric," she said softly, stroking the back of his head.
"And what about your parents, Elle?" Eric asked, choking back another sob. "And why... why haven’t I been hungry this whole time? We’ve been traveling for days!"
Elle pulled back slightly and gave a little shrug. "I don’t know... maybe we’re dead."
Eric looked at her, stunned. "Maybe we’re what? Dead? No…we can’t be dead!" He stared down at his hands in disbelief.
Barkscratch spoke up gently. "Winterfawn said there was magic about you both. That’s how we found your trail. She said you were to be protected.
"
Eric shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "I don’t know what happened... It was supposed to be a baptism. Sure, I was baptized as a child, but I wanted to reaffirm my faith in the Creator. I wanted to make it special—with my mother." His eyes stared into the distance, caught in the memory.
"But the priest…Father Jordan….he started acting strange the day before," Eric said, his voice unsteady. "He ordered the baptism... so many people were saying things. Some said we’d be whipped. Others whispered about excommunication." His eyes stared at the ground. "I watched the first group go in. One by one, they followed his orders. Then it was my turn..."
His voice trailed off as his mind drifted back to what Tyler had done. The words that followed were spoken so softly, so far removed, that even Barkscratch’ s ears couldn’t catch them.
Elle’s eyes filled with sadness. She could see it, Eric, her protector on this strange journey, was slipping away beneath the weight of the trauma Tyler had inflicted… not just on him, but on so many.
She leaned close, her voice barely a whisper. “Goodbye.”
Eric’s eyes widened. A sudden flood of light filled his vision.
"...Momma?" he whispered.
Then he was gone.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Father Lucas was dragged to the center of town, his hands bound behind his back.
"I won't collect tithes and offerings from these poor people!"
Douglas read aloud from one of Lucas’s personal journals, his voice full of mockery.
"I know it’s wrong, but I don’t think it’s right..." Douglas quoted again, then tossed the book aside and stepped toward Lucas.
With a sharp motion, he tore open Lucas’s robes.
“For your crimes of blasphemy against the Church… for refusing to collect tithes and offerings… and for the robbery of Church funds—” his voice rose, seething with false righteousness, “I will punish every member of River Hallow. Each will receive ten lashings and lose a finger. A permanent reminder never to rob the Church again!”
The townsfolk gasped, some weeping openly.
Douglas turned to Lucas, eyes cold.
“And as for you… the ringleader of this rebellion…”
He stepped in close, almost whispering now.
“You’ll be first to the post. Twenty lashes.”
A pause.
Douglas locked eyes with the priest, then added with venom,
“Your dominant hand will be severed—so that it may never again deny the Church the coin it demands!”
Then, without warning, he struck Lucas across the face.
The army gathered the citizens of River Hallow, forcing them into a long, winding line leading to the whipping post. Wives clung to husbands, children were held tightly in their parents’ arms. No one was to be spared.
Amid the sea of frightened faces, old acquaintances crossed paths.
“Hey, Holy Boys!” Jirjin shouted when he spotted two familiar faces in the ranks. His voice cut through the noise like a blade. “Let Lucas go! He’s done nothing wrong!”
Thomas looked away, then back, shaking his head.
“We have our orders,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
He stood stiff, ashamed, knowing it was wrong…but also knowing his place.
Jirjin’s eyes narrowed. His voice dropped, but the fury behind it flared like fire.
“Save your sorry. When this is over, I swear I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to giving you my undivided attention.”
He took a step forward, straining against the ropes that bound him.
“If you won’t stop this madness, then at least be brave enough to untie me. I’ll do it myself.”
Dareth pushed Jirjin back in line," Father Lucas brought this on to you all." he said, "Go on ahead Capper, I'll stay here with this one."
“You know this is wrong,” Jirjin said, yanking himself free from Dareth’s grasp. “You wanted to know how we feel about the Church occupying our town?”
He spat on Dareth’s boot.
Dareth looked down, his jaw tightening. “There’s no reason to be disrespectful,” he muttered before slamming a fist into Jirjin’s side.
Jirjin grunted, his body curling for a breath, then he straightened, locked eyes with Dareth, and spat again. This time, on the other boot.
“Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time.”
Dareth shook his head. “You’re going to make this difficult, huh?”
He wound up and struck Jirjin across the face.
Blood filled Jirjin’s mouth, and he laughed. “With a punch like that, I’m shocked you’re not working as a nursing maid.”
Dareth snarled and cocked his arm for another swing but Jirjin ducked, swept his leg, and sent Dareth crashing to the ground.
As Dareth scrambled to rise, Jirjin was already moving delivering a hard kick to his face that dropped him flat.
“Don’t tell me you Holy Boys actually think you can stop the Usher,” Jirjin sneered. “You couldn’t even stop a bartender.”
The tavern regulars around him erupted into laughter, loud and defiant. The sound drew sharp glares from nearby soldiers.
Without warning, the soldiers turned on the laughing crowd, clubs and fists flying. Screams and groans filled the air as boots crushed rebellion.
“Untie us!” Jirjin shouted, straining against his bonds. “Let’s see if you can still swing like that in a fair fight!”
Dareth stormed up from behind and slammed his fist into the side of Jirjin’s head, sending him stumbling.
Back at the post, Brother Douglas stood tall, holding a long, dark brown whip. Its three pronged ends gleamed, each tipped with curved metal claws.
“Lucas,” Douglas said coldly, “you will count out loud—so everyone can hear you scream.”
He raised the whip high and brought it down with a vicious snap. CRACK! The sound echoed like thunder.
Lucas winced, whispering to the crowd, “Forgive me,” just before the whip tore into his back. The claws bit deep, ripping through skin and flesh.
He took a breath, voice tight with pain. “One.”
Douglas turned to the stunned townsfolk. “This is what obedience to the Church looks like!” he shouted. “If you hadn't followed this traitor, you wouldn’t be suffering today!”
He cracked the whip again.
Lucas flinched but stood firm. “One,” he repeated …his gaze fixed on the children in the crowd, knowing they too were next.
Brother Douglas held the whip aloft, breathing heavily. “Did I hear that right?” he growled. “Did you say one again?”
Without waiting for a reply, he snapped the whip with all his might. The claws tore deeper, peeling fresh flesh from Lucas’s back.
“One,” Lucas whispered.
Douglas's face twisted in fury. “You think this changes anything?! This doesn’t absolve you! This won’t save them! Now—start counting!”
He lashed again.
“One.”
This time, the word didn’t come from Lucas alone. A voice in the crowd echoed it. Then another. And another.
Lucas had resigned himself. If the town had to suffer, he would take as much of it as he could. For what he had done… he would endure.
Douglas’s rage boiled over. Determined to break him, to silence the rising defiance, he struck again. And again. Each crack of the whip was a scream of hatred. But each strike was answered:
“One.”
Louder from the townspeople.
Fainter from Lucas.
Still… One.
The louder the crowd became, the more Douglas struck.
"One." Lucas said, tears rolled from his eyes and he knelt down, lacking the strength to stand. Another Crack!...another "One"
The soldiers backed away, leaving Jirjin and the others alone. A heavy silence fell over the square—shock and awe choking the air. Before them stood a man enduring the worst the Church could unleash… and still, he remained a shepherd, bearing it for his flock.
Dareth stared in disbelief. “Copper, you better be writing this down,” he muttered, stepping away from Jirjin, still crumpled on the ground.
“One.”
The word hung in the air like a prayer.
Dareth clenched his eyes shut. The sight of Lucas’s flesh, shredded and flayed, the glimpse of exposed bone—vertebrae gleaming beneath torn muscle was too much. He doubled over and vomited.
Thomas kept writing. His hand trembled, not only from what he saw, but because he knew. This moment would echo through time. Generations would speak of it.
And yet… the more bone that was revealed, the more the truth was laid bare, the harder it became to press ink to parchment. But he had to. The Church would demand a record. The world would need to know.
With a shudder, Thomas glanced sideways.
Jirjin was rising to his feet.
“One.”
Jirjin narrowed his eyes and locked gazes with Thomas. “You know this is wrong… you heartless coward!” he shouted.
The words cut deep because they were true.
Thomas had always been a coward. He avoided confrontation, never defended himself, and shrank beneath ridicule. But not this time.
Not now.
He stepped forward, balled his fist, and punched Jirjin as hard as he could. Jirjin stumbled forward, but before he could react, Thomas leaned in close and whispered, “Wait until I leave.”
Then he turned his back and walked away.
“One.”
Jirjin blinked, confused—until he felt it.
The knot binding his hands had come undone.
“One.”
The crowd roared it now. Their voices rising together, defiant. Later, Thomas would record this moment and give it a name: The Hymn of Lucas.
Brother Douglas stood trembling, breathless. The whip hung limply from his hand, his muscles exhausted, sweat stinging his eyes. Before him, Lucas lay in a crumpled heap, silent and still. Somewhere during the flurry of lashes, he had taken his final breath. Douglas hadn’t even noticed.
A new sound broke the silence: the slow creak of wheels on stone.
A horse-drawn cart rolled into the town square. In it layed Orion and Melissa.
Behind them….Alex.
And beside them….Rhaine.
They stared at the scene before them, stunned by the horror of what they had arrived to witness.
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