After Niryn's words, I let the silence linger for a moment. The Research Circle felt like a nest of snakes… but something told me what lay above it was worse. Older. Deeper rooted. The true rotten heart of this cult. The brain behind the monster.
I took a deep breath, not bothering to hide my exhaustion, and let the question slip out.
"And what about the top... the High Circle? Who are they?"
Niryn didn't answer right away. She lowered her gaze, as if every word she was about to say needed some invisible permission.
"The High Circle consists of three figures, my lord. They are the Triad. The pillars of the faith. The ones who hear the Voice of the Nodule without burning from within."
She lifted her eyes, her voice now more solemn, like she was reciting an ancient verse.
"The first is Father Elarion, the Bearer of the Doctrine. He interprets the Nodule's will and maintains order among the other circles. His presence is... unsettling. They say his tongue was torn out by the Nodule itself, and now he only speaks through dreams and visions. Yet still, everyone obeys him."
A mute leader who rules through fanaticism and fear.
"The second is Matriarch Vessha, the Sower. She is in charge of the sacred bloodlines, the fertility rites, and the control of offspring. They say her flesh has been infused with the Nodule for decades, and that she could give birth at any moment... but what would come out of her wouldn't be human."
I swallowed hard. The cult has a "mystic mother" permanently pregnant with a monster? This is going from grotesque to cosmic horror.
"And the third..." Niryn hesitated, her voice faltering for the first time. "The Blind Surgeon. No one knows his real name. He is responsible for all physical modifications involving the Nodule. He's the one who chooses which bodies are to be enhanced… and which are to be recycled. His skin is stitched with runes, and they say he can see mana's flow even without eyes. Some believe he never sleeps… and that he hears everything spoken within the temple."
I stayed silent for a long while. These three... they're not just leaders. They're symbols. Living representations of the Nodule's power, doctrine, and perversion. If I want to survive here... I'll have to understand how they think. How they move. Maybe even... how they bleed.
Niryn remained kneeling in silence, waiting for my reaction. Her expression calm, almost lifeless. As if nothing she had just said was absurd in the slightest.
I sighed, looking up at the ceiling for what felt like the thousandth time since waking in this place. I need allies. But what I need most... is time. Time to understand this game, and time to become something even the Triad didn't expect.
I sighed again, shoulders still heavy from what Niryn had just revealed, and I was about to ask another question when a firm knock echoed through the door.
Niryn rose with her usual silent grace and walked over. When she opened it, I saw the silhouette of a tall woman outlined against the dim corridor light.
She was beautiful — with a cold, commanding beauty. Her hair was black as soot, straight and neat down to mid-back. Her skin, pale as freshly fallen snow, contrasted with lips painted black and fingers that looked necrotic, marked by dark veins branching up to her wrists.
Her hazel-green eyes locked onto mine with a mix of respect and... analysis.
She wore a ceremonial black robe, detailed with moss-green accents and runes stitched around the collar and sleeves. The outfit wasn't just beautiful — it was a uniform of prestige. There was no doubt she held a significant position.
She gave a slight bow, the kind that came from conviction, not obligation.
"Forgive me for disturbing the Host," her voice was firm, dry, as if each word had been weighed. "My name is Nora, a member of the Acolytes. I have come to inform you that the High Circle summons you. The Central Chamber awaits."
I froze. Already? I can barely stand without thinking of pain. And they want to drag me to the nest of those creatures?
I forced a sigh and ran a hand over my face, trying to seem calmer than I was. "Alright... I'll get ready. I won't be long."
She nodded, still motionless. "I'll wait outside."
Niryn closed the door slowly, then turned to me with that vacant stare that revealed no emotion, as if the summons were just another inevitable part of the routine.
She walked to the wardrobe while I rose with some difficulty. As I began removing the dirty, simple orphanage clothes, I noticed Niryn didn't avert her gaze nor show any shame — only obedience. It wasn't desire. It wasn't indifference. It was... absolute devotion.
She brought me a new outfit, and as I put it on, I realized it was unlike anything any other child or servant in the sect had ever worn. The tunic was made from thick fabric, black with deep green undertones, like moss in shadow. Small runic carvings lined the collar and sleeves, sewn with oxidized copper thread. The inner layer felt alive — root-like fibers braided beneath the cloth slid across my skin in direct contact.
So this is the uniform of a "Host." As if wearing a symbol could make me forget what they did to me.
Once Niryn adjusted the final details, fastening a bone brooch at chest level engraved with the spiral symbol of the Nodule, we walked to the door.
Nora stood waiting in the hallway like a black sentinel. Without a word, she turned and began leading us through a surprisingly ornate stone corridor.
Unlike the damp, mold-ridden lower temple chambers, this corridor was lined with carved pillars, dark-toned ancient tapestries, and small lanterns glowing with green firelight that flickered like hungry flames. Moss clung to the walls, but here it seemed... intentional. Like a living, sacred decoration.
So this is the "noble" part of the rot...
I continued in silence, eyes sharp for every detail, every possible escape route, every expression that might betray something.
If the High Circle wants me now, I need to be ready. Not like a lamb... but like something they still haven't managed to control.
My steps slowed as a stone staircase appeared ahead. The steps were wide and damp, covered in greenish moss and root marks stretching through the cracks like breathing veins. Nora ascended silently ahead of us, and Niryn remained behind me, like a devout shadow.
I climbed.
The air changed.
When my feet reached the final step, I was struck by a light wave of humid warmth. We were at the surface. The light filtering through the dense clouds was greenish, distorted by floating spores that filled the air like living dust. And before me... stood the heart of the sect's village.
The houses formed an organic ring around a plaza of dark earth. They were rustic structures, made of stone and thick wood, but heavily inspired by Aztec design. The walls slanted inward, the rooftops flat with small platforms where mutant plants, dark fungi, and creeping vines grew and hung like serpents along the sides. Carved beams with ancient runes supported the facades. Each house looked alive — roots sprouted from the ground and climbed the walls as if the soil itself was digesting them.
There was moss on everything. Mushrooms grew in the corners of windows, and rough carvings of rams, eyes, and spirals adorned the wood. On some doors, painted bones hung like talismans. The village floor was uneven, made of worn black stones, with shallow grooves where thick greenish sap slowly trickled.
And above it all, dominating the horizon, stood the Grand Temple.
It was a monstrosity of dark stone and intertwined roots, fused with the surrounding nature. Its architecture combined twisted columns with impossible angles, and deformed humanoid figures sculpted into its walls. The doors were immense, crafted from some kind of polished black wood, carved with spirals and adorned with corroded copper plates. At the top, a stairway led to three towers that rose like spears aimed at the murky sky.
The entire temple seemed to breathe. As if made from something alive, ready to awaken.
But nothing... nothing drew more attention than what stood behind it.
Rising above all towers, roots, houses, and statues, was the Mother Tree.
Colossal. Its bark was black as coal, cracked with veins that pulsed with a vivid green light, almost hypnotic. Its leaves shimmered like liquid emeralds, swaying slowly even without wind. It seemed to watch... to feel.
And I... felt something in return. It's above it. Above the Nodule.
The connection was immediate — a presence within me stirred, reacting to the tree like a lighthouse calling a lost ship. It wasn't just a symbol of the sect... it was a living altar. A guardian.
My steps grew heavier as I approached the temple's entrance. The sensations intensified. Heat. Whispers. Something... was calling me inside.
And then, as if a door opened within my mind, I felt them.
Three distinct presences, sharp as spears driven straight into my soul. Faint, but impossible to ignore. One was cold and orderly like a preserved corpse. Another burned like a ritual fire. And the third... was a sharp blade soaked in blood and reason.
The High Circle... awaits me.
I stopped before the massive doors. Took a deep breath. Turned to face Niryn.
She was already watching me, eyes fixed, unmoving, as if she could see through me. I said nothing — just waited.
She understood.
Stepped forward.
With thin but firm arms, she pushed the heavy doors. A deep creak echoed through the temple's interior.
The darkness within stared back at me.
Let's see what these creatures want from me.
And I stepped inside.