2025-10-27 14:44:57“Welcome to Valenfort, Father Cassian.”
The deep voice echoed through the grand hall of the basilica, reverberating among stone pillars that rose toward the heavens. Monsignor Ardent stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a white robe trimmed with gold embroidery. His hair was entirely white now, his gaze sharp yet not without warmth.
Cassian bowed respectfully. “Monsignor Ardent. Thank you for receiving me.”
“Ah, you came all the way from the north to meet an old man like me. Surely God has His reasons,” Ardent said with a faint smile. Then his eyes shifted to Celene, who stood by the doorway. “Celene, my child, give us a moment alone. I wish to speak privately with Father Cassian.”
Celene nodded gently. “Of course, Uncle.”
Cassian glanced briefly at her before she stepped out. The great doors behind them closed with a soft thud. Ardent turned and said, “Come with me.”
He walked slowly through a narrow corridor toward his private chambers. The basilica’s walls were lined with ancient symbols—some Cassian recognized as seals of protection, while others were unmistakably sigils of binding demons.
When they entered the room, Ardent closed the door and locked it firmly. The sharp click of metal echoed in the air.
Cassian straightened. “Monsignor?”
“Relax,” Ardent said, patting his shoulder. “Not to imprison you… only to ensure we’re not disturbed.”
He moved to a large wooden desk cluttered with old parchments, small candles, and worn leather-bound books. A dark crucifix hung on the wall.
“I know who you are,” Ardent said suddenly.
Cassian frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Ardent gave a faint smile. “Oh, of course you do. The youngest demon hunter of the Order of Salvare. You and your brother, Elias Holt. Your names were once whispered in these halls—both as pride and as warning.”
Cassian froze. He had never told anyone in the village about his past, not even Father Bren.
“How could you possibly know—”“There are things even priests cannot hide from the eyes of the central Church,” Ardent interrupted softly. “And… there are sins that still linger in the air, waiting for redemption. When you become one of God’s chosen, every priest keeps watch over you, Father Cassian.”
Cassian lowered his head. “I came here seeking answers, not judgment.”
“And you shall have them,” Ardent replied. He turned, opening an old cabinet in the corner. “But sometimes, truth does not wait in the light. Come.”
He took up a candle and moved toward a small door hidden behind the cabinet. When it opened, a damp draft greeted them. A stone staircase led downward.
“The archive chamber,” Ardent explained. “All records of exorcisms, confessions, and the names of those who once fought the darkness are kept here.”
Cassian followed, his footsteps echoing between the stone walls. Candlelight danced in the air, casting shadows that seemed almost alive.
At the bottom, the space opened into a vast chamber—rows of tall shelves filled with scrolls, books, and ancient sigils. Ardent placed the candle on a table.
“I’ll return shortly. There’s something I need to retrieve upstairs. Read, if you wish.”
Cassian opened his mouth to object, but Ardent had already disappeared up the stairs.
Silence fell. Cassian wandered among the shelves, his fingers tracing through thick layers of dust. On one shelf, he found a stack of black leather-bound books. One of them bore faint handwritten letters: Elias Holt.
His blood froze. He opened the first page—inside was an exorcism report dated after Elias’s recorded death.
Subject refuses to enter the prayer circle. The light rejects his body.
Cassian swallowed hard. The air around him grew suddenly cold. One by one, the candles went out, as though pinched by invisible fingers.
From the far end of the room came footsteps—slow, dragging.
Cassian turned. Between the shelves stood a figure. Blond hair in tangled clumps, face marred by burns—but Cassian knew that smile.
“Elias…” he whispered.
His brother only stared back, blue eyes now burning like fire.
“Brother…” The voice cracked, hoarse, as if spoken through a throat long dead. “Did you come to kill me again?”
“What do you mean, Elias? I never killed you!”
Elias slowly shook his head. “You never remember what happened… because something dark had already taken you.”
A flash of blinding light forced Cassian to shield his eyes. When he looked again, Elias was gone—
replaced by the sound of approaching footsteps. Monsignor Ardent.“What is it, Father Cassian? Are you all right?”
Cassian lifted his head, breath ragged. “Monsignor… I—I saw him. Elias, my brother who’s been missing all this time… He was here.”
Ardent stopped in the middle of the room. The candle in his hand trembled faintly.
“Elias?” he repeated softly, as if making sure he’d heard correctly.Cassian nodded quickly. “I know how insane it sounds, but I saw him standing right there. His face was burned, his eyes blazing blue. He accused me—of killing him. And what does his name mean, carved here in this record?!”
Ardent didn’t answer immediately. He stared at Cassian for a long, heavy moment, his gaze sharp as if weighing something unseen. Then he slowly set the candle on the table.
“So, you’ve finally seen him too,” he murmured.
Cassian stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Ardent stepped closer. “Did you think you were the only one haunted by that spirit? Since the day Elias died, the central Church has never truly closed your case. There are many things… hidden from the public records.”
“My brother isn’t dead—I haven’t seen him since the last time we fought that darkness at the Carmelite Abbey! How could he appear here now and accuse me of killing him?!”
Cassian’s panic made Ardent close his eyes for a moment. Then the Monsignor approached, gripping Cassian’s shoulders firmly.
“Elias is dead, and you must accept that. It has been fifteen years since your last hunt—and yes, Cassian…”
his voice dropped to a near whisper— “Elias died because of you.”
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9
Seven years ago.The night outside the window glowed with a cold silver light. The wind shook the old trees in the yard of their grandmother’s long-abandoned house. The air was thick with dust and damp earth, yet that night, two brothers stood in the middle of the living room, watching a shadow on the wall that moved without light.Cassian held a small lantern, while Elias gripped a short sword etched with the sign of the cross.“He’s here,” Elias whispered. “I heard him when we opened the back door.”Cassian took a deep breath. “Don’t act rashly.”“Too late for that, brother.” Elias’s gaze lifted toward the ceiling. “Look.”The ceiling trembled softly. From between the rotten boards, black liquid began to drip—falling to the floor like blood flowing backward.Cassian pulled a small book from his coat pocket—Manual Obscura, a copy of an old scripture known only to the Church’s highest-ranking demon hunters.He read quickly in Latin:“Fiat lux in tenebris, et umbra cadat in nomen Domin
8
Cassian walked beside Monsignor Ardent, head bowed so the rain wouldn’t soak his robes.Neither spoke since they’d left the mayor’s residence—the sound of their footsteps on wet stone was the only rhythm marking the silence between them.At last, Ardent cleared his throat softly. “Cassian,” he said, his voice calm but layered with meaning. “You seemed… unsettled earlier.”Cassian turned slightly. “I just… didn’t expect the relationship between the Church and the mayor to be so… unrestricted.”Ardent smiled faintly, barely visible through the fog. “Ah, you’re still young. There will come a time when you learn that purity isn’t about avoiding the world, but about navigating it.”Cassian said nothing.Ardent continued, his pace steady. “Money, power, faith—they’re merely instruments. The Church cannot live on prayer alone. Even God, if you pay attention, works through the offerings of His people.”He looked up at the sky, his eyes catching a faint blue glow at the top of the distant basi
7
Cassian lost his balance.His voice cracked as he demanded an explanation.“I’m sorry, but I truly don’t understand what you’re saying! I’ve never even met you before, let alone done anything that could’ve gotten my brother killed! Explain this to me, Monsignor Ardent!”But Ardent replied coolly, “It’s not time yet, Cassian. Some things must be remembered the right way.”Cassian was still trying to grasp what that meant when two monks came in and, at Ardent’s command, locked him temporarily in the basilica’s sitting room “to calm himself down.”“Monsignor Ardent, why am I being detained?!”“All things that you chase too hard turn into a boomerang. It’s better you compose yourself first.”The two monks quickly pulled Cassian away, not allowing him to speak further. The room was small, with one high window and thick stone walls that trapped the cold air. Cassian sat quietly on the wooden bench, but his mind was in chaos—caught between anger, fear, and a guilt he couldn’t understand.“Oh
6
“Welcome to Valenfort, Father Cassian.”The deep voice echoed through the grand hall of the basilica, reverberating among stone pillars that rose toward the heavens. Monsignor Ardent stood at the far end of the room, dressed in a white robe trimmed with gold embroidery. His hair was entirely white now, his gaze sharp yet not without warmth.Cassian bowed respectfully. “Monsignor Ardent. Thank you for receiving me.”“Ah, you came all the way from the north to meet an old man like me. Surely God has His reasons,” Ardent said with a faint smile. Then his eyes shifted to Celene, who stood by the doorway. “Celene, my child, give us a moment alone. I wish to speak privately with Father Cassian.”Celene nodded gently. “Of course, Uncle.”Cassian glanced briefly at her before she stepped out. The great doors behind them closed with a soft thud. Ardent turned and said, “Come with me.”He walked slowly through a narrow corridor toward his private chambers. The basilica’s walls were lined with a
5
The sun pierced through the last veil of mist above the gates of Valenfort, glinting off moss-covered stone rooftops and the slow-fluttering church banners.The carriage halted on the main street leading to the market, and the driver bowed slightly.“We’ve arrived, Father. The basilica is on the northern side of the city, but the road there is quite crowded today.”Cassian nodded, stepping down from the wooden stairs and taking in his surroundings.The city was alive—noisy, colorful, foreign. Children ran by carrying warm loaves of bread, fruit sellers called to customers, and the clanging of a blacksmith’s hammer split the air.After days of hearing nothing but rain and prayer, this bustle felt like another world to Cassian.His stomach twisted with hunger; he realized he hadn’t eaten since the morning before.The aroma of toasted bread and meat stew rising from the stalls made him swallow hard. He stepped toward a small shop with a wooden sign reading El Pan del Sol.The shopkeeper,
4
Rain poured hard as Cassian ran through the fog. Each step felt heavier, as if the earth itself refused his touch. Voices followed from behind—soft, whispering, yet sharp enough to pierce the ears.Cassian… Cassian Holt… your blood is still warm…He turned, but there was no one on the road. Only trees swaying under the wind.Then another voice—closer.You held her, didn’t you? You’re the one who woke her from the grave.Cassian clamped his hands over his ears and ran faster. His breath burned in his chest, his vision blurring—and before he could realize it, a white light flashed from the right—His body was thrown. The world spun. Rain became shadow. Darkness.Cassian opened his eyes in a place without direction. There was no sky, no ground—only darkness rippling like water. In the distance, a small blue flame flickered—and at its center stood a figure in a black cloak, wearing his own face.“Stop fighting me,” the voice echoed, as if it came from inside his own head.Cassian gripped
