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Cyrus was raised under strict conditions and taught to be a subservient god-fearing, good, pure boy. To follow the orders of his god and his religious leaders, attend church, and participate in “missionary work.” To spread the good word of Cam. Smite the wicked in heaven's holy fire, damn the sinners to their demise, and make them face the repercussions of their transgressions. Once a criminal always a criminal.
 
No one was exempt from punishment. Should he defy the word of Cam as spoken and directed by his parish, as passed down by the diocese, he too would be punished. Whipping, branding, days of fast, and hours of study. Trained to seek out those who poison this land with debauchery, abuse, murder, and blood and bring them to justice. “He will smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.” His father would say. “Never drink, never stray, and never fall to lust.” His mother was disciplined by his father out of “love.” Her words were silenced and her body was burdened by the pressure of her faith and husband. It all came to a head when she didn’t survive one of her “penances.”
 
Then cleansing came: months of seeking out unsavory criminals and bringing them to “justice”, purging their world of crime through the obliteration of convicts; from petty thieves to rapists
and murderers. It didn’t matter, once they were behind the church’s doors, they’d never walk out again. While Cyrus would do his best to prove the innocence or guilt of the accused, he became dissuaded by his brothers of faith. It was about the intention to sin at that point, for they were all just as unruly. Lies were as bad as murder, and that was
how it was seen.
 
It wasn’t until he witnessed many burnings, the bodies of “rotted weeds” they called the children, “young sinners in training.”
 
It didn’t matter if they stole to survive, they were punished just the same, and it caused Cyrus to see things differently for the first time. For a half-elf he was young, his father eladrin and mother a lowly human, seen as lesser in the eyes of the parish, not revered like the holy elven wives.
 
Only 24, barely an adult, and only now realizing the grievous consequences of his actions, the blood he spilled, innocent blood.
 
Tunneled into thoughts that tieflings, goblins, orcs, and under-dark folk, were inherently sinful and criminal.
 
And for the first time, in a long time, Cyrus, the face of calm and cold, was enraged.
 
They were the sinners, Cam would be disgusted.
 
It was then for the first time when Cyrus asked Cam for guidance, he heard an answer.
 
“He will smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”
 
Cyrus waited until the night after a great sabbath when the church would be full of its enforcers, bishops, and priest, his father included. Set fire to the church and locked them inside, bore the sounds of screaming, the cries of the guilty as he sat and watched the building crumble to ash over many hours. And when the fires went out, he lit them again until the rubble was indecipherable.
 
For miles, he would go to the churches of The Children Of Cam and repeat this process. Burning the false houses of worship and the blasphemous heretics within, extinguishing these beings of hate and prejudice, leaving nothing but ash in his wake.

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