Step. Step. Step…
Gold-trimmed boots echoed through the Hall of Radiance, each deliberate stride drawing silent attention. The armoured soldiers turned in unison, their gazes falling upon the man in the stark white long coat.
The golden sun emblem gleamed brilliantly on his back, catching the ambient light as he passed. The soldiers stiffened, then dipped their heads in respectful nods, acknowledging his authority without words.
His halberd's silver edge rested against his shoulder, as he halted before a single brown door.
Beside the door, a soldier stepped forward, his voice measured. "Sir, we believe the custodians of the Hall are trapped inside. We've attempted every means, but failed to break through the spell sealing it."
"Hm." The man uttered, before inhaling deeply, tasting the energy in the air.
An unnatural chill seeped from the door, clinging to his skin like spectral fingers. A low chuckle escaped his lips.
"Douglas…" he muttered.
A gleam flickered in his golden amber eyes, and without hesitation, he lifted his white-gloved hand, his fingers outstretched.
The air hummed, vibrating in response to his command. Then—crack.
Like shattering glass, the space before the door fractured and collapsed, breaking apart into shards of reality that faded into nothingness.
"Open it," he ordered.
"Yes, Your Grandness," the soldier nodded briefly before stepping forward to obey.
Light poured through the threshold, illuminating the relieved faces of the captured as the door widened.
"Finally!"
"We're saved!"
"I knew we would—" Their relief turned to horror as their gazes locked onto the man standing before them.
One stuttered, "Y-Your Highness—I mean Lord Atronis!"
His bald head gleamed under the light, his brown skin shimmering like gold. Atronis smiled calmly, his voice smooth as silk. "Why such fear in your eyes, my brothers and sisters of the Light?"
He stepped inside, descending to their level with an effortless grace, his golden amber eyes unwavering.
"Now," he murmured, "tell me everything that transpired here."
…
The Pope stood at the center of the altar, basking in the sun's radiance. The brilliance of the majestic flame gleamed in his deep brown eyes, mirroring the weight of his thoughts.
A sigh escaped his lips as memories of old flickered through his mind. Then—footsteps. The steady tread of polished boots signalled Atronis's arrival.
"Your Holiness." Atronis nodded respectfully.
"What's the report, Atronis?" the Pope asked.
"What we've understood from the custodians is that Douglas arrived and incapacitated them all before sealing them inside the storeroom. He then breached the arcane system's central tablet, gaining access to the dark portal that brought his highness and the alleged Champions here."
"Hm. That sounds likely." The Pope's response came, measured and unwavering.
"I agree, Your Holiness," Atronis concurred, his golden amber eyes locking onto the Pope's. A deep frown marred his features. "Your Holiness, whatever dark forces my brother has entangled himself with—we cannot allow them to take root. I say we eliminate the custodians and issue a gag order on this entire incident. Then, we march into the Golden Palace and demand answers."
"No." The Pope exhaled slowly, dropping his arms to his sides.
Shocked, Atronis stepped forward, his voice thick with urgency. "But, Your Holiness! The denizens cannot know that the Champions have been seized by the Royals. This would—"
"Enough, Atronis." The Pope's voice cut through the air, carrying an authority that silenced further protest.
Mystical energy swirled around him, humming under his command. "More than my ego, or the Church's standing, we have a duty to uphold. That is to protect the children of the Light against all darkness." His gaze remained firm. "Ensure this chaos does not spill beyond these walls. Handle it, and report back to me in Natun."
Without another word, he took off—ascending into the sky with a deafening sonic boom.
Atronis watched as the Pope's figure vanished into the heavens.
"What troubles you, Your Holiness?" He muttered, concern flickering through his golden amber eyes.
…
Thud! Douglas crashed onto the cold stone floor, gasping for air as pain rippled through his body.
"Where's Stath?" A familiar, melodic voice cut through his breathlessness.
Douglas forced his gaze upward and found Valery standing before him, wrapped in her ornate black dress, her dark hair tied neatly behind her back. His deeply fatigued figure reflected through her striking beige eyes.
She wasn't alone. Another woman stood beside her, a beauty in her own right— with smooth ginger hair resting elegantly on her shoulders, and her emerald eyes gleaming under the crystal light from the ceiling.
"He was… holding back the Pope… so I could escape," Douglas rasped between gasps. His hands trembled, his grip wavering as he struggled to keep the Champions afloat with his control over the mystical energy.
"You seem to be having trouble—let me help." The ginger-haired woman lifted her slender hand, bending the mystical energy to her will. Effortlessly, she drew the Champions toward her.
Valery exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "Against all odds, the plan worked. Kemet has Champions now." A warm smile flickered on her lips.
Douglas forced himself upright. "How can you be so nonchalant about this, Valery? We need to get everyone! His Highness can't hold him back on his own!"
"Calm down." Valery sighed, brushing past Douglas's urgency with practiced ease. "Pope or not, His Holiness can't simply kill Stath. And even if he wanted to—" her beige eyes gleamed, reflecting the incapacitated Champions, "we could just threaten to kill the Champions."
A cold air lingered between them, but before Douglas could speak, a familiar voice echoed across the chamber.
"No one is killing anyone."
Statheros stepped forward, emerging through the dark portal as it faded behind him.
"Your Highness." Douglas and Julia spoke in unison.
"See? Told you he'd be fine." Valery crossed her arms.
Douglas turned to Statheros. "How did you escape, Your Highness?"
Statheros let out a slow breath. "The Pope's faith is his greatest weapon—but also his greatest flaw."
Taking another step forward, he issued his instructions. "Valery, take the Champions and arrange them in their chambers."
"Understood, Your Highness." Valery bowed gracefully. With a flick of her wrist, the mystical energy surged around her, lifting the Champions as she carried them away through the chamber's sole entrance.
"Julia," Statheros turned to the ginger-haired woman. "How far along are your preparations for the Champions' syllabus?"
"It's all completed, Your Highness. I'll be ready for them by tomorrow." Julia nodded respectfully.
"Good." Statheros shifted toward Douglas, grasping his shoulder. His golden eyes burned with conviction as he met Douglas's leaden gaze.
"Rest while you can, Douglas. Tomorrow, we begin reaching the others."
"Understood, Your Highness." Douglas exhaled.
End of Chapter 32