SWNOVELXO Chapter 47: Chapter 47: The Last Ember
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The forest didn't welcome him.
Pope moved through it like a dying animal—limping, half-covered in blood, half-crazed with rage and pain. One side of his body was wrapped in his shredded cloak. His ribs burned where Rick's blow had landed. His thigh throbbed from a grazing bullet.
"They forget," he whispered, "that fire doesn't die… it hides in the ashes."
He stumbled into a hollow between two ridgelines, where a forgotten church lay in ruin. Stone walls cracked, the cross long burned down. A rusted bell hung from the rafters, silent as the grave.
Here, once, Pope had preached to his Reapers.
Here, Leah had sworn her loyalty.
And here, he'd once believed God still watched.
He fell against the pulpit and slid to the floor, coughing blood onto the stones.
His fingers found the broken wood of the altar, gripping it as if it could still hold him up.
"Boone," he said, staring at the shadows. "You fell first."
He closed his eyes.
"Reece. Remy. You died together. That means something."
"Cortez. Mancia. Carver…"
He trailed off.
"They didn't believe enough.
He remembered how Reece had screamed when he saw Remy fall.
He remembered the betrayal in Cortez's eyes—he hadn't spoken in the end, but his silence said it all.
They hadn't just lost the battle.
They'd lost the fire.
Or so Pope feared.
Until he heard the cough.
In the shadows near the rear of the chapel, a figure stirred—a young woman in tattered clothing, a faded Reaper mark still barely visible on her shoulder.
Kara.
One of the supply runners they'd exiled for weakness months ago.
She held a rifle loosely, but didn't aim.
"Pope," she said.
He blinked.
"Kara…"
"I thought you were dead," she said, stepping forward. "They all said you were."
"I am," he replied, coughing again. "But fire doesn't stay dead."
She knelt beside him, pulling a rag from her bag to press against his side. "You shouldn't be moving."
"I have to."
"Why?"
"Because they've built something. Something that's not afraid."
She stared at him. "Isn't that good?"
Pope's eyes lit with something wild. "No."
He grabbed her wrist. Not hard, but with intensity.
"If they believe they can live without fear, then they forget what this world is."
Kara said nothing.
"Help me up," he whispered.
She hesitated.
Then obeyed.
That night, Pope sat in front of the ruined altar, sketching on scraps of paper with coal and ash. He drew the layout of The Right Arm from memory—watchtowers, fences, gate positions.
Kara watched silently as he marked an X over the center of the town.
"Where they sleep," he said. "Where they gather."
"You're planning something," Kara said.
Pope didn't look up. "A final sermon. One they can't ignore."
"They'll kill you."
"I hope they do."
She frowned. "Then why?"
Pope met her gaze. "Because I want them to see that no matter how high they build their walls, fire still finds its way in."
He laid it out for her.
Use their mercy against them — let them spot a wounded figure stumbling toward their gates.
Carry a rigged backpack, soaked in accelerant and rigged with homemade incendiary charges.
Time it to detonate in the medical station or the town square — wherever they show kindness first.
If not him, then someone else.
Kara paled.
"You'd burn them all?"
"Not all," Pope said. "Just enough to remind the rest."
She rose. "That's not a sermon. That's a curse."
Pope's voice dropped. "It's the gospel."
She backed away.
But she didn't leave.
By sunrise, Pope stood outside the chapel, looking down into the valley.
Far beyond the trees, smoke curled from The Right Arm's cookfires. Even from this distance, it felt… alive.
Defiant.
He hated it.
"I'm coming," he whispered.
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If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Ptreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:
15 Advanced Chapters on Patreon
patreon.com/HighKingdom