The next day
The bells of the Luminaries Temple tolled, their deep chimes reverberating through the grand city. It was the signal for the daily sermon, a sacred gathering where the faithful devoted their prayers to the Holy Lord.
As always, the Grand Hall was packed with men and women dressed in simple white robes, their heads bowed in piety as they awaited the Priest's arrival.
Elara and Kael moved silently through the crowd, their expressions carefully neutral.
Elara had attended these sermons countless times before, but today felt different.
The atmosphere was unusually heavy, as if an unseen weight pressed down on the devotees. The inner priests and priestesses—those who rarely mingled with ordinary worshippers—had all gathered today, their watchful eyes scanning the crowd. Some whispered quietly to each other, their expressions unreadable.
Elara tensed under their scrutiny. She didn't need magic to feel it—they were looking for something… or someone.
She took a glance at Kael, who stood beside her with a composed expression, though she could sense his unease.
"Stay calm," Kael whispered under his breath, barely moving his lips. "Don't stand out."
Elara gave a slight nod, shifting her gaze toward the altar where the sermon was about to begin.
"Praise be to the Holy Lord!" a voice boomed through the hall.
The Priest stood at the altar, arms raised, his golden robes shimmering under the ethereal light filtering through the stained-glass windows. He was an older man with sharp, intelligent eyes—one of Mother Aveline's most trusted subordinates.
"For it is through Him that we are granted salvation! Through faith, we are purified! Through devotion, we are blessed!"
The crowd repeated after him in unison, voices rising in reverence.
Elara barely heard the words.
Her eyes flickered across the hall, taking in the subtle movements of the inner priests and priestesses. She could see it now—the faint glow of golden faith swirling around them.
Slowly, carefully, these bunch of priests and priestesses wove their spells into the air.
Elara clenched her fists. They're harvesting faith energy.
It was an insidious ritual, one she had only recently come to understand. The priests and priestesses siphoned energy from the crowd, drawing upon the blind devotion of the faithful to strengthen their own power.
And the people…
They don't even notice.
Elara's heart twisted as she watched the devotees' eyes glaze over, their postures slackening. A serene bliss spread across their faces as if they were drunk on divinity. They had no idea that the very temple they worshipped was using them.
Kael shifted beside her, his voice a barely audible whisper.
"The atmosphere seems really heavy. This isn't normal."
Elara swallowed. Indeed. How can this be not heavy when they're actively extracting the faithful's life forces.
Elara whispered back to kael. "They're searching for something."
Or perhaps… someone.
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
She forced herself to bow her head like the rest, murmuring prayers she did not believe in. She couldn't afford to draw attention.
---
The sermon came to an end with a final chorus of "Glory to the Divine Lord."
Slowly, the massive congregation moved toward the exit in an orderly fashion. The devotees, still dazed from the spell, walked in silence, their expressions serene.
Elara and Kael blended into the crowd, moving with calculated precision.
Each step felt agonizingly slow.
Their goal was simple—leave without being noticed.
The grand doors loomed ahead, a passage to safety. The golden light of the city beyond spilled through the opening, calling to them like a silent promise.
Then, just as the last of the worshippers stepped past the threshold—
SLAM!
The grand temple doors shut behind them with a deafening finality.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some devotees blinked in confusion, briefly wondering why they still stood within the temple's halls. But within moments, the murmurs died down.
One man chuckled. "Ah, another blessing from the Holy Lord."
A woman beside him smiled. "Yes, yes. Let us pray longer, then."
The unease dissipated. Blind faith overruled doubt. Elara clenched her fists. They don't even question it. She turned to Kael, forcing a calm expression. "Let's go. We need to talk."
Kael nodded. "Our usual place."
Without another word, they disappeared into the city streets.
---
Deep within the Luminaries Temple, in the sacred chambers reserved for the highest-ranking members of the Divine Order, the Council of the Blessed gathered once more.
At the head of the room stood Mother Aveline, her expression unreadable.
She held the Abyssal Sigil in her hands. Its surface was cold, pulsing faintly with an unnatural presence.
"The signs are growing stronger."
Her voice, though quiet, silenced the room.
Seated before her, the High Priests and Priestesses exchanged wary glances.
Bishop Callum cleared his throat. "Perhaps we are overreacting. Rebellions are common in troubled times. There is no solid proof that—"
"You are wrong."
The voice that interrupted him belonged to Bishop Lysander, one of the few members with connections outside the Human Realm.
He stood slowly, his sharp gaze meeting Aveline's.
"I have received information from our spies within the Demon Realm."
The room tensed.
"The Divine Seals… are weakening."
Gasps erupted. Even the more skeptical members of the council stiffened in alarm.
Aveline's grip on the sigil tightened.
"If the seals are weakening," she said, voice steady, "then it can only mean one thing."
Her golden eyes burned with cold determination.
"Something is trying to break free."
A heavy silence fell over the council.
One of the younger priests, his voice trembling, asked, "Is it truly possible? That… that he is returning?"
Aveline closed her eyes.
The Abyss Lord.
Lucian.
The name she had been taught never to speak. Her eyes snapped open. "We cannot allow this to happen."
She turned to the council, her voice carrying absolute authority. "We will intensify our search. If there are any traces of his influence within our lands, we will eliminate them."
She glanced down at the sigil in her hands, the ancient symbols carved into its surface seeming to writhe beneath her gaze.
A warning. A curse. A shadow from the past. And somewhere out there, someone had touched this sigil. Someone had awakened something.
Her grip tightened. Whoever they were—they would be found. And they would be 'cleansed'.
---
Meanwhile…
Elara led Kael through the twisting alleys, moving with urgency but not speed. They had to look natural—no sudden movements, no indication of distress.
Only when they reached the city's outskirts, where the ruins lay hidden beyond the towering stone walls, did they finally allow themselves to move faster.
The ruins were a forgotten place, remnants of an ancient temple long swallowed by nature. The cracked pillars stood like skeletal remains, half-buried in vines and moss. The scent of damp earth filled the air.
Kael frowned. "Why are we here?"
Elara swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something I need to show you."
She pushed forward, weaving through the broken stones and fallen structures until she reached the spot—the exact place where she had discarded the sigil.
But when she looked down—It was gone.
Elara's breath hitched.
She dropped to her knees, frantically running her hands over the ground.
"No. No, no, no—"
The sigil had been here. She was certain of it. But now, all that remained was a faint trace of dark energy, as if something had disturbed it.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Elara's fingers trembled slightly as she traced a familiar shape in the dirt. The same place where the sigil she had discarded.
"Kael… I think I made a mistake." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Huh?" Kael look at Elara in confusion.
Her hands trembled as she turned to Kael, her face drained of color. "It's gone."
Kael stiffened. "What?"
"The sigil. I—I left it here. It was right here."" Her voice was rising in panic. "But it's gone, Kael. Someone took it!"
Kael's expression turned grim. He took a slow step back, his hand gripping his sleeve as if trying to suppress his own terror.
"Elara… tell me exactly what the sigil looked like."
Her mind raced. She had barely glimpsed it before discarding it, but the image was burned into her memory—ancient carvings, pulsating with an eerie energy, as if it were alive.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Kael inhaled sharply, his voice barely steady. "Elara, listen to me. If the Order finds that sigil, they will connect it to whoever disturbed it. And if they do—"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
Elara felt the blood drain from her face. "This is my fault."
Kael grabbed her wrist, his grip tight but not painful. "We have to go. Now."
"But—"
"No 'but's! We need to leave before anyone finds us here." His voice shook slightly, but his resolve was firm.
Elara felt her breath hitch, but she forced herself to nod.
---
They didn't stop running until they reached the bustling marketplace within the city walls. Only then did they slow down, their frantic escape blending into the rhythm of everyday life.
They ducked into their usual gathering spot—a small, inconspicuous food stall tucked between larger, more crowded ones.
The scent of roasted meat and spiced tea wafted through the air. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Elara pressed a shaking hand against her forehead, her heart still racing.
Kael took a deep breath, his voice low and urgent. "Okay. We need to think."
Elara swallowed, gripping her own arms to keep herself steady. "the sigil is gone, someone took it."
Kael exhaled. "The worst-case scenario? The Order already has it." Silence hung between them.
Kael's hands curled into fists. "We don't know who took it yet. And we can't just assume the worst." He was clearly trying to calm her, but his voice was still tight with fear.
Elara met his gaze. "Kael… if the Order gets that sigil, they'll start looking for whoever touched with it."
Kael nodded slowly. "Then we need to cover our tracks. Lay low. Act normal."
Elara bit her lip, her mind racing with possibilities. But deep inside, a single thought gnawed at her.
No matter who took it, one thing is certain—something has already begun.
And there was no undoing it.