After just a few simple procedures, a bloodline purification potion specially formulated for Barrett was ready.
Barrett stared at the materials shimmering beneath the lamplight on the table, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
Unease and anticipation mingled on his weather-beaten face.
Veylin pushed the cup of dark gold potion toward Barrett, his voice devoid of warmth.
"Barrett, do you know what crime artificially altering a bloodline constitutes under the Bloodline Purity Act?"
Barrett stared fixedly at the potion and swallowed. "I do. Desecrating divine grace. The Purifying Fire."
"The Purifying Fire." Veylin repeated the words, watching Barrett calmly. "There's still time to change your mind."
"Change my mind? My lord, I wonder if you've ever smelled it." Barrett gave a self-mocking smile, his long-dead left eye opening a fraction.
"I have," he forced out through gritted teeth.
"In the northern frontier, my closest brother wanted a better life for his wife and children. He was so desperate to become a transcendent that he lost his senses. He spent all his savings getting hold of some tattered bloodline modification notes from the Black Market..."
"...The tribunal's hounds found him in just one day. When they lit the fire in the square, my brother didn't scream. He just looked at me."
The knuckles of his right hand turned white as he gripped his sword hilt too tightly.
"Do you know, my lord? I still can't forget that smell. It wasn't the charred aroma of roasted meat. It was fat mixed with despair, wrung dry little by little by the flames of divine grace. They called it purification. I called it... slaughter."
"My lord," his voice trembled, yet carried a desperate resolve, "filth like us, without bloodlines, spend our whole lives burning in an invisible fire. Rather than be reduced to ashes