The High Church of the Eternal Flame stood at the heart of the imperial capital like a colossus carved from light and stone. Its spires pierced the winter sky, each one crowned with ever-burning braziers that cast a perpetual golden glow across the snow-dusted rooftops below.
On this day, the great bronze doors had been flung wide, admitting streams of nobles, cardinals, and lesser clergy into the vast nave where marble pillars rose like ancient trees toward a vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of divine judgment and mercy.
The air inside was thick with incense and anticipation. Whispers rippled through the assembled crowd like wind through wheat—rumors that had begun the moment Lucifer's heralds announced his intention to address the Church in person. It was the first time in centuries that the Morning Star had appeared in public vestments, and no one knew quite what to expect.
When he entered, the whispering stopped as though cut by a blade.
