Chrysalis Chapter 1745 - Heresy Meets Heresy

Beyn found himself uncertain about the emotions stirring within him as he faced the Grand Priest again. In the past, he had dreamed that fellow members of his former order might embrace the vision he now held, stepping into the radiance of this fresh Path. But after the catastrophe that struck the Silver City, such hopes had faded into doubt.

Lost in contemplation with his head lowered, he strolled along the nest's internal routes, heading toward the detention areas. Brightly illuminated and roomy, these passages stood as yet another testament to the Colony's consideration for allies who journeyed beside them. Beyn frequently pondered how the ants' own tunnels remained narrow and shadowy, suited to their tastes—tight burrows meant for them to cluster tightly together. In contrast, for humans and other residents sharing their domain, the Colony freely offered comforts they seldom granted themselves.

No companions traversed this hallway alongside him right now, leaving him alone to appreciate the perfect engravings, the intricate tapestries, or the gentle luminescence from the magic-infused wall lamps placed at regular intervals. He moved quietly, the faint clack of his ant-shaped staff against the ground being the sole noise.

Arriving at his goal, he emerged from the passage into a communal chamber, overseen by a dozen ants maintaining a vigilant, steadfast vigil over the imprisoned. In this section housing two dozen enclosures, most seemed occupied by soldiers from the Judgement Battalion, each looking pale and diminished, struck by an unexplained frailty.

“Excuse me. Where can I find the Priest, Alir Vinting?” he inquired, employing his now perfect pheromonal communication.

“He is in the cell toward the back, the one on the right,” the immediate response came.

Long ago, the ants had shown astonishment and bewilderment when he addressed them via pheromones, puzzled by how he generated them absent the proper organ. Their curiosity often waned upon learning it stemmed from mana. These days, non-ants using their mode of speech no longer startled them. This development thrilled Beyn deeply, marking the deepening bond between the Colony and Path-followers who shared their way.

“Thank you. May the Great One illuminate your steps.”

“Who?”

Too preoccupied to catch the guard's puzzled response, Beyn pressed on firmly toward the farthest cells. Though far more opulent than any jail he had known before, these compact chambers remained stark and confined by Colony measures, their occupants plainly observable from beyond the barriers.

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Alir Vinting sat precisely as the guard indicated, lounging at ease while drinking from a teacup, his garments still marred by battlefield grime.

At once, fury blazed in Beyn’s heart. He strode forward.

Somehow, without question, he knew it to be true—a fierce conviction surged in his chest and scorched behind his gaze, dissolving every trace of uncertainty.

“It was you,” he declared.

He halted just beyond the bars confining the Grand Priest, fixing a intense stare on the figure inside. Alir, meanwhile, appeared unruffled, setting down his cup as he regarded his new visitor.

“You will need to be a little more clear,” he replied.

In a surge of rage, Beyn raised his staff and slammed it against the stone floor.

“It was you!” he burst out. “You orchestrated the seizure of the lost ant in the Silver City! During that library encounter, you probed me for secrets, eager to uncover everything. I had wondered if you glimpsed the New Path's glow, yet you schemed your… your treachery all along.”

The one-armed Priest uttered the term with revulsion. It failed to capture the full measure of his contempt and revulsion toward the deeds of the man across from him, yet no harsher label came to mind.

“You speak to me of heresy?” Alir mocked. “A disgraced Priest of the Way, bereft of sanity as well as limb? The madness in your eyes is the sole light there. These monsters exist to serve our triumph, not vice versa. I have merely adhered to the Path as it was set forth at Pangera's beginning! You once grasped that truth yourself.”

“I was shown a superior reality. A collaboration that elevates everyone and charts a shared advance. Behold the wealth and strength surrounding you and deny my words if you dare!”

Alir glanced at the fine porcelain vessel in his grasp. With scorn, he let it slip, allowing it to crash and break on the ground.

“You are wrong,” he stated plainly.

No redemption awaited him. No value in trying. For the first instance since his revelation, Beyn sensed something akin to hatred. He felt no compassion, no sorrow for the other's delusion. Such flaws might merit forgiveness. But his deeds, those deeds stood beyond absolution.

“Confined here, insisting your innocence,” Beyn grated. “I wonder if the Colony will view it likewise.”

He inclined his head faintly toward the formidable ant carving crowning his staff. For the first time upon his arrival, Alir displayed a hint of unease.

“Threatening me, a Grand Priest of the Church?” he jeered. “See how low you have sunk. Does any shred of your honor, your belief, remain?”

“My faith has never burned brighter,” Beyn murmured, his gaze piercing the man before him. “If truth itself threatens you, then surely you tread an errant Path. I shall reveal your crimes, leaving your destiny to their jaws. The Colony's judgments tend toward mercy, but… for you, I predict otherwise.”

“If they slay me, they invite catastrophe upon their foolish, beastly selves,” Alir retorted. “You know that. Would you risk your misguided redemption?”

“I’ll tell them. But it won’t make a difference.”

Beyn retreated with grave deliberation.

“Walk in the light of the True Path,” he intoned, “for whatever time remains to you.”