The Embers of St. Ardus
You ever think about the connection we like to draw between religious tenents and fire? No, i haven't been to the Pyre Square again, I'm just trying to be philosophical!
-Indignant dock worker.
It has been a very long time since anyone but the most deserving have met their end on a pyre. Once the execution of choice for religious fundamentalists and despots meant to be used against heretics and dissenters alike, there are textbooks filled with accounts and gruesome depictions of innocents being thrust upon the pyre, knowingly or not, though I'm sure it's little comfort to know those that burned you truly believed they should have or not. I suppose it makes the consequence a little less bitter, in the end, knowing that it's likely deserved.
History
The first account of the Embers of St. Ardus comes from the 189th turn of the Wheel of the Sun Church during a period of, shall we say, volatile church officials. In the city of Orircia, within the nation of Treole, and birthplace of the Sun Church, the last throws of the Treachary of the Sun are playing out. Much of the civilized world had resisted or revolted, and bar a few minor places, the Sun's wrath was now curtailed.
The more militant of its members lashed out towards those still in their reach, judging them for their perceived failings. Nowhere was this more apparent than it was in the capital of Treole, Orircia. Having long been the origin point for the church itself, its grip was not so easy to dislodge. First, the perceived 'rebels' were carted to the city's center square, once famed for the ancient mosaic that had survived centuries to be there, and massive pyres were constructed to be used as a form of 'example'.
When the rebels were gone, the impious were next. After that, the insufficiently pious. Finally, as the enemies of the Sun Church circled outside the city, ideological fracturing began. Priests accused each other of heresy or apostasy or fell into conflict over differences in ideology. They didn't resort to the pyres immediately, but the threat of it was ever-present. To speak out against it, was to put you into the light of those fires, much to your detriment.
Such was the lesson learned by Ardus, a lowly priest for the Sun Church who argued against the execution of so many, and all for an end that he could not determine. He was popular enough that the Church's leadership attempted to only quiet him at first, but as the pyres continued to throw smoke into the sky day after day, Ardus grew more direct and determined. it did not take long for the Church to determine that there was something that needed to be done.
Ardus did not resist when the Solar Militants and simply went along with them with a knowing look. His neighbors, some of them ardent Sun Worshipers, were less placid. In the end, the Militants had to fight their way back to the Cathedral of Saint Solarea and bar the door behind them.
The Church held a trial, away from prying eyes, and if there was any doubt when the whole farce started, Ardus would face the pyres.
When he was brought to the Square the following day, he shuffled through the ash without a word and climbed atop the newly stacked logs. He said nothing when asked for his final words, nor when another priest began to read his last rights. Still, nothing was said when the fire was lit, nor when the tongues of orange licked at his feet, and flesh started to boil and melt. From those first sparks, to when the pyre burned out completely, Ardus said nothing at all. He did not speak, nor whimper, nor shout or scream. He simply burned, all the while staring at the priests in attendance and the growing crowd of citizens.
When it was done, not even his skeleton was left behind, so hot had the Church stoked the flames. All had become ash, like so much around the feet of the onlookers.
So life went on, as much as it can in a city under threat from mass burnings. That is, until a week later when an innominate priest arrived at his post in the archives within the Cathedral sweating and wheezing. He had been present for Ardus' execution, and this feeling had started the day after, growing more intense with each passing hour. He was not a small man and was used to being overly warm, and the constant ash just outside the cathedral had only made his breathing more labored, but this was something else.
It felt like he might choke where he stood or burst into flames himself. Then he did.
The first victim to the Embers of Saint Ardus took with him the whole of the archives of the Sun Church, and all those who worked there.
The next victim was another low-level priest, whose home went up with him and took the whole block with him.
No one drew a connection between them and Ardus, and why would they? Most assumed it was a vigilante with a sense of irony. Then a deacon went the same way and a trio of bishops all at once. Then the whispers began that Ardus had somehow survived and was seeking vengeance. Then a Cardinal burned along with his whole fervent congregation. That started the rumors of a curse.
From there, the floodgates opened.
At first it seemed limited to just the clergy of the Sun Church that would complain of heat, then burst into a roaring inferno. Then it spread to those that had been present for Ardus' burning. Then those that had been close to the scenes of the growing number of spontaneous combustions.
In the end, whole blocks would be reduced to ash and the city of Oricia would nearly be wiped of the map. Even as the ash settled, it became clear that Ardus, or whatever had been causing all this, wouldn't stop. Soon, those that fled the city would fall victim as well, also spontaneously combusting some indiscernible time in the future, causing an all-new spate of burnings and fires in an entirely new place and with people not related to the Trechary of the Sun.
Now the Embers of Saint Ardus, now considered a disease; if a magical one, has grown endemic across the globe, though its symptoms have mellowed over time, though it has grown no less lethal in all this time.
Type
Magical
Origin
Magical
Cycle
Short-term
Rarity
Rare
Treatment comes solely in the form of bleeding the energies spawned by the disease from the body. On paper, a simple task for anyone magically inclined as the energies aren't tied to the person in any way, simply looking for an escape from a vessel. However, their volatility makes the task much harder, and far more dangerous for both victim and anyone involved in treatment. That being said, there is a select group of people that find the effects of the disease amiable, or even somewhat desirable due to the increase of magical energies.
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