Headed by a Snake

The Exarch had a strange divine relic. He called it the Fire Stone.

It was an incredibly boring name for a guild that called their centurions 'Scarmothers' and their elite troops, 'The Branded.'

It was a roughly hewn, dull-colored crystal a bit bigger than her fist. Nothing about it looked particularly impressive. If she squinted her eyes, she could make out a vague Z-shaped rune inside of it-- but that didn't exactly scream 'holy artifact.'

The following night, Ptolema's life changed.

She had something... that she could only describe as a religious experience.

She dreamt of the Eternal Flame.

Kind. Warm. Everlasting. It was everything a deity was supposed to be.

But it was also... more than that.

Inside of the Flame... there was a dragon. It had scales and teeth and great, majestic wings that shot up into the heavens... It had gentle eyes that peered into her soul and saw all the hurt and pain and suffering.

And its voice...

It spoke to her. It offered her rebirth... to shed her old life and to be born anew. And when Ptolema accepted, the dragon taught her the words that she engraved in her heart.

'I am the heir of ash and fire.'

She woke from her dream under the starry sky, upon a bed of smoldering embers. Some time during the night, her bedroll and tent had gone up in flames.

She suffered almost no injuries... only minor burns. At the time, she thought it nothing less than a miracle.

...she was told later that it happened all the time.

From that sun onward, Ptolema found she could summon literal fire from her hands.

Once she got over her initial shock, she also found that she was shite at it. Agathe once joked that maybe they should change her title to 'Burnmother.'

That girl...

Ptolema continued to hear the voice of the dragon near every night.

She didn't learn anything new, as far as doctrine went... Heretics bad. Humans good.

However, with each passing week, the voice taught her more about her gift... and her aptitude grew. Eventually, she became confident of manipulating the dragonfire without worrying she'd burn the rest of her face off.

...A year prior, she would have dismissed it all as heretical nonsense.

Talking to religious figures in her sleep? Throwing fireballs at painted stones in a field? That's not something normal human beings do. It wasn't something Ptolema ever could have imagined herself doing.

In her guild, however... it was commonplace. Some of the strongest mercenaries they had were faithful Priests and Champions, all who could wield flames. She also recalled having worked with a Silver Pyromancer trained by the Church.

Fire was a good thing. Why wouldn't it be? They all worshipped a literal Flame, and no one thought that was weird.

What was weird, though...

The voice in her dreams... it made her believe in dragons. Those unstoppable beings of destruction that only children believed in? They were real.

There was a dragon in the Flame. She had seen it.

...and she wasn't alone.

Hundreds of faithful had joined the Sons of Qotal, with dozens more recruited each week... and all of them were convinced that dragons exist.

...It gave Ptolema plenty of work, mostly administrative in nature. She was good at it, so she didn't mind too much.

Releasing the fire orb in her hand, she willed it to levitate above her. The usefulness of her magic in day-to-day tasks made her wonder why it was so hated in Tyrion...

Refocusing on her work, she quickly read through the rest of her reports.

...

A bell later, Scarmother Talon stepped out of her tent, her hot breaths forming wisps of white in the cool night air.

It wasn't too late yet. She wondered if she had missed dinner, too.

She glanced over to the village on the horizon. Smoke plumed up into the sky from when their forces raided it. She hoped that none of her men were hurt-- unless they deserved it.

She approached the noisiest part of the camp, her path lit by evening braziers. Whispers amongst the Sons and Daughters of Qotal, her peers and subordinates, heralded her arrival.

"What's this, then?" Talon asked.

There were three captives tightly bound to heavy wooden stakes, a young woman, a boy, and an older man. They were arranged atop a large assortment of dried branches and split logs-- all very flammable.

It seemed her subordinates were fairly convinced they were guilty. She hoped it wasn't because the first two had the 'sin' of having pointed ears.

"Scarmother," A Decanus approached her and saluted. "The village was hiding these three heretics. Praise the Flame they were discovered."

"Oh?" Talon narrowed her eyes at the youthful fellow. He was a Church enforcer from Caeruleum, one faithful to their cause. Still, it didn't feel right that he was so energetic, concerning the topic.

She tore the blindfold off of the closest person-- the woman, then ripped the gag out of her mouth, "Is what this man says true?"

"Release me, at once!" The villager screamed, "Just because I have Elven blood doesn't mean I'm a heretic!!"

Talon silenced her with a backhand across the face, "Calm yourself. If you are innocent, then you should be able to defend yourself with words-- not just volume."

The xeno slowly turned back with a face of indignation, clenching her teeth and flaring her nostrils.

Her eyes were still arrogant... as if she had nothing to apologize for. It was as if she was wholly ignorant to the way things worked in the Holy Country.

Talon had seen those eyes before... in the Gold-Rank Elven Priestess, Ariadne. She too had practiced heretical magic. That Snake Cult whore deserved nothing less than burning in dragonfire.

"The only thing I am guilty of... is being a half-elf in the Holy Country," The girl declared.

"Elf or not," Talon grimaced, "I can see through your lies, b*tch."

"What PROOF do you have, you Flamescarred whore?" The Witch shouted back.

Talon shut her eyes and shook her head. As her own abilities developed, she was better able to sense magic in other beings. Being so close to the half-human, the reek of heresy almost made her sick.

"Let me speak in terms you can understand, then," Talon hardened her gaze. "*You* are an unsanctioned psyker."