But as the distortions of light and heat cleared, the Paladin stood there, unharmed, and turned back to face the Priestess.

"That won't work - this time," said the Paladin, angling the long-burned left side of her face towards the Priestess. "I've been marked by your magic before. I've spent many years since developing an appropriate counter-ward."

"You!" said the Priestess, "You're one of them! A..."

"Heathen? Perhaps I might have been, once. Before you burned my village, killed my people and ended their traditions. As it is, I know little of the ways of my people, and my own experiences have led me from their path. Barely anyone knows them any more - you did such a good job of erasing any trace of their heritage, any trace of Crag's End. But you didn't quite get one child - caught halfway by one of your blasts as she fled down an alleyway."

The Priestess had recovered a little and tried a different tact, summoning a large, green, ethereal serpent which flailed out of her staff and toward the intruder. The Paladin reached for their blade, and in a flash the snake was bisected, falling to the ground and dissolving into steam. The Priestess hadn't even seen the Paladin lunge. Just how powerful was she?

"And you used that particular trick in the neighbouring village, this time disguised as a Fallen. The accounts of your attack on the village, and defeat by one of your own faith's Priests were very convincing. But it all becomes clear when you realize that there really isn't such a thing as a Fallen, doesn't it?" said the Paladin, "That the sacred oaths and tenets are no more binding than a simple promise."

"You..." said the Priestess, trying to think of some other trick to try - something that she hadn't used before, on that northern crusade, "What do you want from me? Coin?"

The Paladin laughed at that, a long, hearty laugh that echoed around the empty temple. "No, not coin. What I want is for you to come clean about what you've been doing all these years - the lies and deception you've been using to grow your following. Purging competing faiths, telling villages and towns that your way is the only protection from the Fallen - a threat that you manufactured - I want them all to know."

"You must be truly mad if you think I'd admit to that," said the Priestess.

"Hmm," said the Paladin, squaring her shoulders, "Then it's a good thing that the second thing that I want is to prevent you from hurting anyone else, ever again."

There was another flash of light, and the Priestess' staff was cloven in two, the two pieces falling from her grip and to the ground, disintegrating into ash as the enchantment on the item failed.

"Wait!" shouted the Priestess, "Wait! I can give you the High Priests! The ones who ordered us to go north! I'll give you them! Only I have what you need!"

The Paladin's free hand went into her satchel, the left hand still on her blade. She pulled out a parchment, a list of names - how had the Paladin gotten them? They were supposed to be bound to secrecy!

"You were right about one thing, Priestess. The light does reveal all, in time. But this was no divine intervention. Your own faith turned against you in the end. The actual Priests of your faith - those that didn't agree with what you did, who actually cared - they watched, and waited. You own the guards and the courts - line their pockets with the results of your tithes. They'd find no justice going to them. But when I became involved - well, they saw the chance to set things right. I wonder what new and better version of your faith they'll build, without your toxic influence."

"No, please - I..."

There was a flash of light, and the Priestess suddenly found herself on the floor, strength ebbing as the seconds ticked down. The Paladin stood close by, and uttered a few final words.

"And if for some strange reason I'm wrong - if deities do exist, and they did choose you to wield divine power? Tell them when you meet them that they chose poorly."