Chapter 5 – The Voice of the Goddess
The cathedral's spires clawed at the heavens, their silver tips bathed in the dawn's first light. Bells tolled, their echoes rolling like waves across the gathered masses.
Upon the alabaster dais, the High Priest stood robed in gold-threaded white, a figure both serene and terrible. His eyes — cold as mountain glass — swept over the kneeling crowd, not in affection, but in measurement.
> "Children of the Divine Light," his voice rang, neither loud nor soft, yet heard in every heart. "The Goddess watches. The Goddess waits. The Goddess judges."
A hush deeper than silence fell.
> "The enemies of Her will walk among us, wearing mortal flesh. They will preach chaos, clothe themselves in false glory, and bear the mark of the Dark One. But we are the sword in Her hand, the flame in Her breath, the unshakable stone upon which no shadow may linger."
His hands rose, palms outward, as if offering the entire congregation to the unseen heavens.
> "Today, a throne falls." His words were honey and venom intertwined. "We shall strip it from the hands of the heretic king, scour his blood from the land, and lay his crown upon the altar. Not for my glory. Not for your glory. But for Her."
A roar surged from the crowd, though many trembled. They did not cheer the man — they cheered the god behind him.
The High Priest lowered his hands slowly, and for a moment, the faintest smile crossed his lips.
Another kingdom to the flame. Another step toward the day when all kneel beneath Her light.