Who has a claim against me that I must pay? Everything under heaven belongs to me. Decree 41:11
Life’s scars are not manifest in the pale blade of the zealot’s face. He leans forward, that face arranged in an expression he considers to be compassionate:
“It’s not for me that these penances are enacted; your soul is not yours for retail but for the Father to reap when He sees fit.”
He extracts a tool from the box at his feet,
“You may fear me all you want, but my hand is at the command of the highest power; your soul may rest in the knowledge that you have been saved from the Night.”
A man’s salvation is not found in the strength of his belief in God but in the faith that his belief will deliver salvation.
“On the streets they call me a zealot,” he leans forward to whisper in the ear of his barely conscious audience, “...those who still have a tongue to call anyone anything.”
He pauses to allow the screaming to abate, “Behind my back they whisper blasphemous accusations of cruelty and brutality – things they dare not say to my face since such lies would be contradicted in the face of my faith – but brutality is a slanderous misinterpretation of my methods; for am I not kinder than the night?”
So be it; slander is but one of a the many burdens to be borne by the righteous, and one that is compensated by the knowledge that I am merely the hand that brandishes the tools of The Higher Light.