Messmer swept his hand down.
Scarlet flames descended from the sky. The fire that had once burned the Hornsent now burned their source as well.
It was not rain, but a waterfall, a torrent, an ocean of fire pouring down. Flames fell from the sky, covering the entire Temple, the surrounding streets, and Antonia Fortress, where troops were stationed.
Rome's elite soldiers turned to ash in the flames.
The merchants exchanging silver evaporated into nothing in the flames.
All those who had treated the Temple as a place of business vanished in the flames.
Yet the fire skirted certain corners of its own accord.
People were praying there.
The flames swept past them without singeing a single hair.
Fire could not feel compassion.
Fire could only follow rules.
And those rules had been laid down by Dove. He had once bestowed 144,000 seals, and now he would reclaim an equal number. All that had been spared in the burning would now be claimed back.
Messmer hovered in the air, watching the sea of fire below.
Buildings collapsed, stone pillars fractured, and everything that had once been glorious turned to ash.
But he felt nothing, because this was a mission, nothing more.
The flames would last 42 months, 1,260 days. And only nine righteous people remained. This burning was not sent down by a god; it had merely been kindled by a human.
The fire had descended. Messmer withdrew his hand.
He looked down at the land blazing below, at the once-glorious holy city, now a city on fire.
Someone knelt and began to pray, only to be swallowed by a serpent of flame.
Dove watched it all from the heavens.
The den of thieves had been cleansed.
Yet the blinded people had not been awakened.
True enough, the time had