You have been brought before the Ekklisía. Masked figures pat you down and you mention that you are not carrying weapons. You're in part of their church, the bell gonging away.

They're agreeing on something—that it was important to avoid Suidelasia and the other countries from finding out about that Falaina criminals that were exiled to the sea of sand. However, they say that it would have been impossible for a ship without one of those to pass through, so the extermination of Falaina wasn't that important.

They're recalling how you pushed for the timeline to be moved up. You had used their own usual religious prattle against them—how the exile 93 years ago would have been a shut book by their extermination. How they'd be ravaged by their emotions anyway. How our troops would reign divine justice down upon them. That the world before the rain of Kathartírio was torn apart by conflict and emotion. That hell on earth would be embodied on Falaina, and would serve as a lesson to the people of present day. It would reaffirm the dangers of having emotions. This is the argument you used to convince them and the emperor. Of course, you had your own plans.

But it failed, they remind you, and now it might be backfiring. They say this is the worst possible outcome, and that the emperor has his verdict; you, Arachni and the surviving soldiers would be executed, and they would wipe this mission from the logs. It would not exist, so it would not fail.

You have to convince these preachers not to kill you. "Do you really think that would make the best story?" you ask. They say yes. You laugh and flip your hand through your hair, and they ask you if you think it's amusing.

"Excuse me, I just think... it's a little pathetic," you say. Immediately they're all mad. One is shocked, another is yelling not to take you seriously, a third masked member is claiming it's your usual misdirection (he's right) and a fourth is saying that you're skilled at sophistry (he's also right).

"At one point the heavens abandoned our world. People were corroded by emotions and the earth became a cauldron of disasters. Yet, the unrepentant became ever more arrogant. But one day, the heavens tore loose a piece of God's body and allowed it to fall to earth. That was..." you're lifting a finger. "...the rain of Kathartírio. With that, the old and corrupt civilization died."

They want to know why you're bringing this up. Of course. Why would you be retelling them their own story.

"Who are we? What kind of beings are we? We survived on the ark and built a new world after the world was cleansed. The (...) were formed from the piece of God's body that fell to earth, and we worshipped them. We gained strength from them and decided to entrust to them our emotions, the source of all of our past mistakes. You could called the marked the angels of the (...)."

You're pausing, lifting up a second finger. "There are two kinds of people on this earth. Those who can be messengers of the (...) and those who cannot." You continue about how the unmarked are treated inhumanly, all of this which they know. It's time to surprised them. "There was once a third kind of people. That's right. Daímonas."

You tell them about how after the rain of Kathartírio, our country sought to seize the supremacy, and the power of the (...) created a most strong soldier. A soldier that was too powerful. They had the power to destroy even that which made them. So, the empire's country sealed them off. You call them a double-edged sword. One priest calls you ridiculous, that daímonas are just a legend.

"And thus we consigned them into the past. But we cannot ignore them any longer. The young man who destroyed Skyros was a daímonas! They are no longer the stuff of fairy tales." You point, again, straight up. "I would like to redefine daímonas... as a threat that has returned to the empire. A threat capable of sinking this country, our ark. A corrupted angel. The terrifying source of all sins on earth."

Now you're pointing at Arachni. Your scapegoat. "In the face of such a being, Arachni... how did you treat him? According to the log, you underestimated him... and you insulted and provoked him." It's working. Arachni is speechless and flustered. You begin to reach into the front of your jacket, smirking. As you begin to pull something out, Arachni shouts at you and shoots—at the papers in your hand, now bloodied because he shot your hand. You knew he would. You wanted him to. A few fingers is nothing, when you're about to be executed before your grand plan can unfold.

If the other one is a moon, then this one [ the middle one ] could be death, even if that guess is more symbolic than anything.

...I would guess Hierophant, Strength, Sun, but the first two both mention strength.

But the first one has more... explanation.