2025-10-28 03:25:12Cassian 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 Lord, what am I supposed to do? Is this how I’m meant to find my answers? It feels unbearable.”He had barely finished whispering when the door opened again. One of the monks returned and handed Cassian a small bottle.
“Father, drink this. You’ll calm down. Monsignor Ardent ordered it,” he said.Cassian took the bottle and drank it immediately. The monk turned and left, leaving him alone once more.
Sure enough, within minutes, Cassian lay slumped on the wooden bench, his eyes unfocused. His eyelids felt heavy, yet he forced his lips to move. “Elias… if you have something to tell me, if you know what really happened, then come and show me. I truly need you…”That last word closed Cassian’s eyes, and he fell fast asleep.
But in the middle of the night, something woke him.
A sound—a faint whisper coming from behind the wall. He sat up straight, listening. The voice called his name, soft but clear: Cassian...He moved closer to the wall, searching for the source. From between the cracks in the stone, the whisper came again, louder this time. Trembling, Cassian followed the sound through a narrow passage behind the altar. There, behind a large cross hanging on the wall, he saw something—a secret gap he hadn’t noticed before.
He pushed the cross slightly, and the wall behind it shifted, opening a narrow crevice. Inside, a stone shaped like an eye gleamed—black obsidian, shimmering strangely in the dark.
And the eye… seemed to look back.Cassian hesitated. But curiosity overcame fear. He touched it.
In an instant, the stone pulsed warmly—and the vision swallowed him whole.He saw Elias, his brother, bound at the center of a circle of sacred symbols. Around him stood several priests in ritual robes—including Monsignor Ardent. But the most horrifying sight was the figure standing beside the altar—himself, younger, with eyes blazing blue like hellfire.
Cassian gasped. The vision shattered, and he collapsed to the floor, blood dripping from his nose. His breath came ragged, the room spinning around him.
A soft knock on the door startled him.
“Still awake?” The voice—Monsignor Ardent’s.Cassian scrambled to his feet. “I… I just woke up.”
Ardent opened the door slowly. “Then come with me for a moment. The night air is soothing.”Cassian wanted to tell him about the vision, but Ardent’s sharp gaze stopped the words in his throat.
“Don’t,” Ardent said calmly. “Whatever you saw, let it be. The time hasn’t come to speak of it.”Cassian merely nodded, and they walked through the long corridor lit by flickering lanterns.
When they stepped outside the basilica courtyard, Valenfort lay silent—but alive in an eerie way. Thin smoke rose from chimneys, and the air carried the scent of wet stone and incense from a distant chapel.
“Where are we going?” Cassian asked. “The mayor summoned us,” Ardent replied without looking back. “He says it’s important. And… it concerns the Church.”They descended the cobblestone street toward the city center. Between the shadows of towers and the roofs of the night market, Cassian noticed city guards stationed at every corner, their faces tense. Something was clearly happening.
When they reached the mayor’s grand hall, they were greeted by a tall man in a dark crimson robe. “Monsignor Ardent,” he said, bowing slightly. “We’re grateful you came so quickly.”
Ardent smiled faintly. “You said this was about the people’s trust in the Church?” The man nodded. “And also about the decision of war that may soon come. The people are beginning to side with those who oppose the sacred authority.”Cassian listened silently, but the longer it went on, the more the conversation shifted—not about peace, but about power.
“The Church has always been the bridge for the people,” the mayor said with a diplomatic smile. “And if you would write a pastoral letter supporting our policy, Monsignor, they would believe that this action… is blessed.”Monsignor Ardent didn’t reply immediately. He stared at the candle in the middle of the table, letting its flame reflect in his dark eyes.
“Blessed,” he repeated quietly. “Blessed by whom, Mayor? By God—or by the will of men?”The mayor held his smile, then clapped his hands lightly. An aide stepped in, carrying a small chest carved with Valenfort’s crest.
“A small token of gratitude,” the mayor said easily. “For the restoration of the monastery—or perhaps… the purchase of new scriptures for your pupils. You know, this city owes much to the Church.”Cassian knew what was inside even before it was opened—the faint scent of wood mixed with cold metal. He looked at Ardent, waiting for his reaction.
Ardent studied the chest for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Generous citizens are always a blessing to God,” he said flatly. “We’ll accept it… in Valenfort’s name.”Cassian felt something tighten in his throat. “In Valenfort’s name,” he repeated softly, though his gaze was sharp.
The mayor smiled in satisfaction. “Then we’re in agreement.”Ardent looked back at him. “I never said we were,” he replied quietly, his thin smile chilling the air. “I only said I was listening.”
Cassian watched him warily.
“Is it true… that we’ll involve ourselves in such worldly affairs?”Ardent turned slowly, his smile cold. “Worldly or not, Cassian, God often speaks through the hands of rulers. We merely interpret His will.”
Cassian felt the weight return to his chest. Those words reminded him of something—of their childhood at the monastery, when Elias had opposed a similar decision and ended up exiled.
And that night, amid the diplomatic words and the false laughter of officials, Cassian realized something far darker:
that in Valenfort, faith and power were not two separate things—but two edges of the same sword.
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14
The stairway the shadow had taken plunged far deeper than the previous tunnel, and the air grew heavier with each descending step, thick like damp velvet pressing against their lungs with oppressive weight.Cassian gripped the stone rail as he followed the twisting descent, and with every passing meter the sounds from the club above faded entirely, swallowed by an unnatural hush that felt ancient, deliberate, and aware of their presence.Celene’s footsteps echoed behind him with unsettling clarity, each tap too loud in the silence, as though the stairwell wished to amplify her fear and feed on it like a starving creature tasting blood.When they finally reached the bottom, a vast chamber opened before them, carved into a perfect circular shape with pillars resembling humanoid figures holding up the ceiling, their stone hands stretched overhead as if forever praying for forgiveness.An altar stood at the center of the room, but unlike the basement beneath the basilica, this one pulsed
13
The derelict chapel at the edge of the eastern district felt wrong from the moment Cassian and Celene stepped beneath its shattered archway, as though the remaining structure mourned a history it could no longer carry.Rain-soaked wind swept through the broken stained glass, scattering colored fragments across the floor that glittered faintly like dried tears beneath the muted daylight.Cassian surveyed the interior with cautious breath, noticing how the shadows clung unnaturally to the corners even though the sun should have dispelled them, and he sensed a presence lingering like a memory refusing to fade.Celene moved closer to him, clutching the hilt of her concealed ritual dagger beneath her cloak, and her tense expression revealed she felt the same invisible eyes watching from the dark.“We should not stay long,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, “because something in this place has been waiting far too patiently.”Cassian nodded, scanning the cracked tiles for any sign o
12
The morning after the bell tolled three times, Valenfort awoke beneath a sky the color of diluted ash, and the citizens moved through the streets with the quiet dread of people convinced something terrible had already chosen them.Cassian walked beside Celene toward the eastern district where the church guards had supposedly discovered a body, and every step felt heavier than the last because he already sensed the corpse would not resemble anything natural.The eastern district was usually filled with bakers opening shutters, children running barefoot, and merchants preparing their stalls, but today the entire street stood eerily empty as though the whole neighborhood had collectively agreed to hide.A cluster of armored guards stood around a boarded door, their hesitant posture revealing fear they could not mask despite the rigid discipline of the Church’s enforcement order.When Cassian approached, several guards stiffened while others subtly reached for their weapons as if expectin
11
Celene did not speak for the first several minutes after they fled the underground chamber, and Cassian could tell she was choosing her silence carefully rather than losing her voice to panic.They stepped into the cloister hallway where moonlight washed through the tall arched windows, painting pale stripes along the floor that looked disturbingly like bars of a cage they had both unwillingly stepped into.Cassian leaned against the stone column, trying to calm the frantic tremor in his hands, though the shaking worsened when he thought about the reflection speaking with a voice shaped perfectly like his own.Celene kept her distance at first, watching him as though he were a cracked vessel leaking something dangerous into the air, yet her breathing gradually steadied enough for her to approach him.“You were not supposed to see that room,” she said with a quiet intensity that felt more like a verdict than an explanation, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of fear and reluctant res
10
Cassian waited until the last of the choir boys extinguished their lanterns and followed Ardent up the winding stairwell toward the clergy’s quarters, leaving the basilica echoing with hollow breaths of cold evening air.The silence felt wrong, as if the walls themselves inhaled in anticipation of something he was not meant to hear, yet absolutely meant to discover.He moved through the nave with deliberate steps, each footstep softened by the worn crimson runner that stretched to the altar like a vein carved into the marble.When he reached the small wooden gate behind the pulpit, he felt an unexplainable pressure hugging his ribs, an invisible warning urging him to stop, but stopping had long ceased being an option for him.The gate creaked open with the slightest push, revealing a cramped stairwell descending into the basilica’s lower foundation where the choir stored their props and where the priests claimed old relics slept.Cassian had visited the storage room once before and fo
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
